


What Is Tomorrow Without You

by son_of_a_bitch_spn_family



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence from Season 12 Finale, Canon typical level of violence, DCBB 2018, Dad!Sam, Dean Winchester Hates Jack Kline, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2018, Depictions of Sleep Deprivation, Everyone is Jack's Dad okay?, Grieving, Love Confessions, M/M, References to Addiction, Temporary Character Death, Very Minor Unexplored Jack Kline/Alex Jones (he has a kid-like crush), bunker family, dadstiel, family values, until he doesn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 09:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 93,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16385750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/son_of_a_bitch_spn_family/pseuds/son_of_a_bitch_spn_family
Summary: Cas is dead, and Dean is living through hell all over again. Experiencing hell as he'd first lived it, Dean aches for peace. When Jack enters his life, it only brings him a purpose. A mission for revenge sends Dean spiraling out of control as Jack does everything in his power to help Dean, going as far as to using his power to let Dean visit Cas where he resides after death. But when Dean depends on these visits and learns a few things about how he truly feels for Cas, the line between what's real and what's not starts to blur. Dealing with grief and his need for revenge, Dean struggles to find a way to get his family back together while also coming to grips that he might have to find a place in a world without Cas in it. Fortunately, Cas comes back, and Dean has to learn to navigate through the life he'd been wanting. But things aren't quite what they seem as their relationship blooms, and Dean realizes he's the reason Cas is slowly changing, and not for the better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This challenge has been one of the best things I ever encouraged myself to do. Despite being wary of such a major group of fantastic writers who produce amazing creations, I signed up for this challenge anyway in hopes of becoming a better writer and motivating myself to commit to a longer story. Amazingly, I got much more than I bargained for. I gained friends, family even, and learned much about myself, the fandom, and my writing. Along with evolving positively as a writer, I reached out and strived towards goals I would have never tried for before, such as going to a convention with people I met through this very challenge. 
> 
> And for everything I learned, and gained, and did, I have so many to thank for it!
> 
> First, to my lovely artist who I was blown away by. Not only did he create such beautiful art, but he helped keep me together when I became a mess (which happened plenty), so thank you, Impalartsociopath. Here is his art masterpost, go give him some love! 
> 
> Next, I have to give my deepest thanks to my lovely Beta! Jaycee helped me through every line and managed to beat this very long fic into something presentable! I honestly don't know how I could have done this without such an amazing Beta!
> 
> Major thanks to those who helped push me, helped encourage me over on the Cucumber Crew. Not only did I have an amazing time seeing you all, but I had an amazing time becoming your friends. Without your help and support, I wouldn't have stuck to it. So, thank you, Mal, and jscribbles,Darling, Plaid and Devil Traps, and Elena! I love you guys to the moon and back!
> 
> And the final thanks go to JoJo and Muse for being wonderful mods for this wonderful challenge! I appreciate everything about this whole experience!

 

Dean's been waking up in hell since he laid eyes on the scorched land that mapped out wings beside Cas’ still body. 

 

It didn't make sense, but every night that Dean fell into a slumber, he woke up in hell. That first night — after everything had settled, and there was no denying it — Dean expected a nightmare to interrupt his usual sleep routine, which was rarely interrupted anymore.

 

However, he was confused when he found himself pinned to the rack, his skin being slowly peeled off. Confusion naturally faded to horror, and after what seemed like hours in hell, Dean jerked awake in his bed, his body aching. He laid in a pool of his own sweat as he felt the cool air around him for the first time since he fell asleep. 

 

Dean had chalked it up to his mind reacting to everything he'd been put through. It was rare but Dean knew it was bound to happen. He had just witnessed the very angel who pulled him from hell actually, genuinely  _ die.  _

 

At that point, Dean didn't care about why he had the nightmares, he just wanted to sleep again. Sleep was easier. 

 

Dean learned very quickly that sleep was  _ not  _ easier. The nightmares persisted every single night; it was like he never left hell in the first place. Every night, he was subjected to copious amounts of torture and heat seemed to rise within his body throughout the nightmare, no matter how hard he had the air running in the bunker, no matter how many blankets he got rid of. Every time he woke, he was in more pain than the night before and there was yet another pool of sweat to clean up. 

 

At first, Dean was alone in his horror. He didn't tell Sam, wouldn't dare to. He just spent every night doing everything in his power to stay awake, to not fall into hell once again. 

 

Eventually, though, there was no hiding it from Sam. Dean had reached a point that even the bags under his eyes had bags, and the bruises under his eyes were starting to look as if he got into regular brawls. 

 

Sam expressed his concern, and Dean, naturally, waved him off. Sam let it go, knowing Dean was taking everything that happened with Cas pretty hard. But it reached a point that Sam just  _ couldn't  _ ignore it anymore. 

 

Dean was getting jumpy, which wasn't really a problem until the flashbacks started. When Sam had approached him from behind, Dean turned on him, nearly stabbing him with a damn kitchen knife before Sam managed to pull him back. Worse than that, Dean started to slowly break down, started fracturing apart slowly but surely. 

 

The first time Dean broke down from literal sleep deprivation, Sam felt his heart break in two. He didn't know what to do with it, didn't have a clue how to help. 

 

He tried. Fuck, he tried. 

 

Dean had reached such a point that he allowed Sam to watch over him through the night. If he could just get  _ one _ night of sleep, he'd feel better. At that point, he'd do  _ anything.  _ So, Sam sat up all night and watched, waiting for Dean to start to wail, or twist, or scream, or fight, or  _ something.  _ He waited... and waited... and waited some more. 

 

Dean never even twitched, his breathing never even upsetting once. Sam just watched as Dean seemed to get a restful night of sleep. 

 

The next morning, Dean jerked awake, breathing harshly and groaning weakly. Sam had rushed over, confused by the stain of sweat surrounding his brother, as the air had been blowing directly on him all night. There was absolutely no reason for Dean to be drenched or sore. 

 

There was no amount of medicine that could knock him out to the point where hell couldn't grip him. Every time he fell asleep for the three months after Cas passed, Dean went through hell in vivid color and he felt  _ everything.  _

 

Dean tried to pretend that he was fine, tried to stay mostly okay for Sam at least, but it was a moot point. Anyone with eyes could tell that Dean hadn't slept well in a good while, and Sam knew it was deeper than that. Yet, Dean tried his best to deal with it, moving through his days and doing his best to ignore every ache and pain that lit up his body. 

 

Dean tried and eventually, he failed. 

 

At the end of the third month, Dean sobbed into his pillow, begging for any bit of relief. He prayed to God, pleading with him to  _ ‘please, please help, please’.  _ He wasn't even ashamed at who he was asking, wasn't even ashamed when he insisted that he'd do  _ anything.  _

 

That night, something had changed. 

 

Hell was the same as every other night before, and there was no pause between his slumber and his torture. He couldn't even tell where one ended and where the other began. He couldn't even identify sleep and hell as separate entities anymore. And finally,  _ thankfully,  _ there was a break. 

 

Like a live replay, Dean had the chance to get off the rack, was given the choice to escape his pain if only he'd inflict it on others. And again, Dean was too far gone to say no. 

 

That night, as screams became his lullaby and he got used to souls crumbling beneath his fingertips, crushing under his command, Dean was reminded just how much of a monster he actually used to be and still  _ was.  _

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Cas.” 

 

Dean looked out to the lake that sat beside the house Kelly Kline had her baby in, watching through bleary eyes as the sun glittered off the ripples like diamonds. Even with his foggy sight from lack of sleep, he knew it was pretty. Dean wished he could appreciate it, but the sight was marred by the fact that he was sitting directly beside a scorched patch of land shaped like wings, and he knew exactly what it meant. 

 

He didn't come out here often, especially not with everything going on, but Dean hadn't been able to stop himself that day. The itch to get in his baby and drive was never ignored, and the lack of destination never bothered him. Without thought, Dean just drove, and he didn't really think about where he was going until he could see the house over the hill. 

 

“I guess I just missed you extra today is all,” Dean offered as an explanation to himself more than anything. 

 

There was no reply, but Dean could picture Cas’ little smile and how he'd stare at him with that little tilt of his head. He smiled and glanced down at the scorched pair of wings, his smile slowly evaporating the longer he stared. They were flared out as if shocked to be there, and he had to admit that it was a shock. In all the years of knowing Cas, Dean never expected to see them burned into the earth, had never wanted to.

 

“I don't know what to tell you, man. I don't know how this happened any more than you do. Fuck, it sucks,” Dean admitted, ducking his head.

Dean scrubbed roughly at his eyes, trying to dry the wetness in them. He wanted to hide, to wipe away all evidence of  _ caring,  _ as if Cas was still there, as if it made him weak. He knew, logically, that it didn't, but he still cleared his throat to dislodge the lump that settled there. Vulnerability had never been his strong suit, no matter how inevitable it was at times. 

 

“Uh, things are mostly the same, Cas. I mean, we've settled at the bunker again. Sam insists on staying put for a little bit to, y'know, grieve. It's been months, though, and I want to get back out there. We have shit to clean up, you know?” Dean shook his head and glared out at the pretty lake. 

 

There was silence yet again, and Dean had to close his eyes to perfectly concoct the open expression of concern that would be stamped on Cas’ face if he was there. He'd side with Sam of course, always quick to agree with the softer side of things. Which, no, that wasn't true either. Cas always managed to surprise him. Maybe he'd agree with him, understanding that Dean throwing himself back into the fray to  _ help  _ was how he grieved. Maybe. Shit, Dean didn't know and that fucking  _ hurt.  _

 

“Why am I lying to you, it’s not as if you're listening anyway, right?” Dean scoffed, scrubbing his freaking watery eyes. “Want the plain truth, man? I can't fucking  _ sleep.  _ I can't close my eyes without going through hell and I can't function. I'm barely scraping by here, and it's your fuckin’ fault! How  _ dare  _ you, Cas? Huh?  _ Castiel! _ ”

 

Dean hauled himself to his feet, grabbed the first rock beneath his fingers and chucked it, his chest heaving as he watched it fall into the water with a resounding  _ thunk.  _

 

Dean wanted to be angry, to shout Cas’ name some more, demanding his presence, but as he watched the ripples on the water form like vibrations through the air, he felt all the fight drain from his body. 

 

God, he was so fucking  _ sore.  _

 

Dean sat back down with a groan, rubbing the sore joints of his knees. He was so tired, in a way he never had been. Everything felt like a workout, even simple things such as talking. He was exhausted in every way possible, all the time. 

 

Dean sighed as he eyed the wings again. It was almost funny because without even trying anything, he knew that those wings would never fade, no matter how much time went by, no matter how the environment morphed and changed. Those wings were Cas’ last imprint on the world, and Dean found himself reaching out, placing his hand on the dead ground, digging his nails in. 

 

“I'm not mad at you,” Dean reassured the air around him. “I mean, I was a little bit, at first. Especially when I realized you actually weren't coming back but, uh, I understand. I just wish… Yeah, I just wish.” 

 

Dean retracted his hand, fumbling it through his hair in embarrassment as if someone had witnessed his moment of weakness. Dean shook his head and sighed heavily, staring out at the lake again. It was still as beautiful as it was when he first showed up and it didn't match the somberness settling in him at all. 

 

“I just wish,” Dean repeated quietly and slowly stood up. 

 

With one last glance at the wings, Dean turned and left, driving away with the feeling that he was worse off than before he showed up. 

 

* * *

 

“Do you think Cas is in Heaven?” 

 

Sam understood his words, despite the way they slurred and splintered around a yawn. Dean blinked rapidly and stared at Sam, waiting for any kind of response. Sam shifted as he frowned, confusion marring his face. 

 

To be fair, it was the kind of question they never asked or ventured to. It was the kind of question a person, who didn't know the things they knew about heaven and angels and  _ God,  _ asked in hopes of comfort. It was the question young children asked in innocence with wide eyes glittering in hope and purity. It wasn't them, and it certainly wasn't  _ Dean,  _ so Sam's confusion wasn't an insult. 

 

“I mean- Well, Dean, you  _ know  _ how the angels felt about Cas,” Sam murmured softly, his face twisting in a grimace. 

 

Dean knew. That didn't make it any easier to think about, and  _ that _ didn't stop him from wondering about it. Sam was quiet, and Dean could tell he felt awkward, could sense that Sam was walking around on eggshells around him when Cas came up. Dean didn't know why, in all honesty. Sam lost Cas too.

 

“He could've ended up in Purgatory,” Dean suggested, frowning down at his hands. 

 

“No.” Sam shook his head roughly, upset with that idea, not even giving it a chance. 

 

“If not Heaven or Purgatory, then where, Sam? Where did he go?” Dean asked, watching Sam, waiting for that big brain of his to produce an answer. 

 

“I don't know,” Sam said, handing that over instead, not providing  _ anything  _ for Dean. 

 

“Not hell,” Dean muttered, almost laughing at that idea. “That's not- God wouldn't let that happen. I mean, Cas was an _ angel. _ ” 

 

“I don't know,” Sam repeated, his voice smaller that time, and Dean snapped his mouth closed. 

 

It wasn't like they could just call Crowley and ask because that was yet  _ another _ person they’d lost. Dean never thought he'd think of Crowley as something to lose, to  _ miss,  _ and yet. Somewhere between being confused at actually missing the king of hell and trying to keep his head up, Dean nodded off. 

 

There was never a moment in between his falling asleep and him ending up in his dreams. One second, Dean's in the room with Sam; the next, he's wrist-deep in someone's chest cavity, wreaking utter havoc and  _ enjoying  _ the terror ringing in his ears. 

 

Dean felt every minute tick by like he would if he was awake, and the six hours of sleep he got that night was spent ripping a soul apart. Dean laughed for hours, his wicked face reflected in the eyes of his subject, a mirror to show him his horrific smile. 

 

“Dean!  _ Dean, wake up! _ ” 

 

Dean jolted, his bones protesting at the sudden movements. He felt as tired as he was when he nodded off and sank further into the chair, whimpering pathetically as Sam's concerned and pitying face flickered before his eyes. Sam had long ago learned not to touch him, and Dean finally convinced his eyes to open. He glanced around and eyed the medicine Sam sat beside a cup of water for his pain. 

 

“I'm- I'm good.” 

 

He’s not, and they both knew it. Dean's labored breathing as he straightens up and pops the pills was something of a routine. He swallowed and immediately started peeling off his sweat-soaked shirt, letting Sam help him. 

 

As per usual, Sam led him to the bathroom and got the cool water ready for him. 

 

A cold shower was the only thing that managed to rinse away the last tendrils of heat from his nightmares. Sam left him to shower alone as Dean never let him help any more than that. He wished he had enough strength to not let him help at all. The fact that he didn’t only made him hate himself more. 

 

He was a monster and he was  _ weak.  _

 

After the shower, Dean made his way into the kitchen, accepting the coffee Sam passed him. He sunk into a chair, wincing at the stab of pain that shot through him. Sam caught it but didn't comment, opting to sit a plate of food down in front of him instead. 

 

“I tried to wake you for six hours and  _ nothing.  _ I don't get it, man. It's like you're in a dead coma when you finally go to sleep. I  _ can't  _ wake you up, Dean, no matter what I do.” 

 

“It's not your fault,” Dean grumbled.

 

“Maybe not, but it isn't right,” Sam said. It wasn't the first time Dean had heard that. 

 

“I'm getting used to it,” Dean mumbled, as he waved a hand flippantly, trying to sway Sam from harping on it continuously. 

 

“You shouldn't have to!” Sam stood up quickly and started pacing. “This is  _ bullshit,  _ Dean. You've already gone through hell once. There's no fucking reason for this!” 

 

Sam paced in the small space, and Dean fought a sad smile. His little brother looked like a caged animal, stuck with nowhere to go. Dean remembered what that felt like, remembered how it drove him  _ nuts _ when anything happened to Sam he didn't deserve. It felt oddly touching. Dean wanted to let Sam's anger rile him up too, but all it managed to achieve was having him settling farther in his acceptance. Hell was his life now. 

 

“Sammy, let it go. We've made calls, we've done our research, and we've tried everything. I guess I won't actually get to rest until I'm dead,” Dean said with a weak chuckle, and Sam glared at him, his bitch face actually pretty impressive. 

 

“Sleep deprivation  _ can  _ kill you, Dean. You know that, right? You might literally  _ die  _ from this,” Sam snapped, frustration pouring off him in waves. 

 

“I just have to last another month,” Dean muttered, averting his eyes. 

 

“What?” Sam whispered, blanching. 

 

“I'm not going to ride off a bridge in a month, Sam, chill out. I just have to...wait,” Dean explained, shrugging slightly. 

 

“For what?” Sam asked seriously, his eyebrows knitting together. 

 

“Cas,” Dean replied simply. 

 

Like a light flicking off, Dean watched the confusion slip off Sam's face; immediately replaced with concern. Dean wanted to roll his eyes. Sam seemed to weigh his next words very carefully, obviously approaching Dean with his next statement as anyone would approach a hungry, rabid animal. 

 

“Dean,” Sam murmured softly, slowly, “Cas… He isn't going to come back. He's dead.” 

 

“I know that,” Dean snapped, glaring at Sam because it  _ still  _ hurt. “I'm not fucking insane, you asshat. I know he's dead and not coming back to m- to us, alright?” 

 

“So,” Sam said carefully, “why?” 

 

“I  _ think _ I'm reliving my actual experience in hell, just in real time here on earth. It was three months for you, but thirty years for me when I gave in and started torturing so I could get off the rack, right?” 

 

“Yeah, but what does that- Oh.  _ Oh. _ ” 

 

Sam blinked and stared down at Dean in blatant horror. Dean couldn't meet that look head-on, so taking a sip of his coffee, he focused his eyes on the stove across the room. Sam slowly sat down, bracing his arms on the table and stared at Dean in unapologetic pity. 

 

“Don't look at me like that,” Dean growled, turning to pin a glare on his little brother. 

 

“Are you- When you go to sleep, you're, y'know, doing that?” Sam asked, fumbling over his words and struggling to get them out. 

 

Dean sighed, oh so obviously tired. 

 

“Yeah, Sammy, I am.” 

 

They both had no idea what to say to that, and Dean was thankful for the silence. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I don't know why I keep coming back.” 

 

He really didn't. 

 

Dean didn't have any idea why he insisted on coming back to the pair of wings that were just as bold as the day they were scorched onto the ground. It  _ wasn't  _ Cas, just a piece of him left behind. It wasn't the same, yet Dean couldn't let go. The wings stared up at him, and Dean liked to think Cas would be pleased he came back, that he couldn't help it. 

 

Dean looked back at the car, glancing at his brother’s figure. Sam wouldn't let him drive anymore, not after Dean nearly passed out, driving them into oncoming traffic because he hadn't slept in three days. When Dean had finally gathered the courage to ask Sam to drive him, Sam wordlessly grabbed the keys. Outwardly, Sam didn’t really react, but Dean could practically feel the pity emanating from Sam. 

 

“Sam's being a real trooper, I've got to say. I mean, we've always been close but he's backed off a lot since all this shit started. He's also taking a lot more of my shit than he  _ ever  _ has. I guess I should back off, huh?” 

 

There was no reply and the sting of that hadn't faded one bit, but Dean pushed through it the only way he knew how. He closed his eyes and imagined Cas’ response. The rough, gritty voice that would be full of fondness as he told Dean to  _ ‘give Sam more credit’  _ and to ‘ _ be nicer to him’ _ and all that lovey-dovey, family jazz. 

 

“I suppose he misses you, too. Don't know why he isn't out here, struggling with this shit with me. I don't know, man, he acts like I've got it worse or something, like I miss you differently than he does, like it hurts me in a way it doesn't hurt him. That's bullshit, right? I think so,” Dean murmured with a scoff, wrinkling his nose. 

 

Dean didn't want to stretch out the trip because of Sam. He didn't want Sam to sit in the car and watch him struggle through every minute, watching him break down with every passing comment that Cas didn't reply to. He didn't  _ want  _ to, but Dean found himself sitting down beside the wings, facing the lake just like last time. 

 

It wasn't sunny and there were no diamonds glittering off the lake today. The water was strangely still and the whole sky seemed to be made of grey, no outlines of clouds to be found. The whole day seemed to line up with his mood this time, and Dean let out a long breath, reaching down to run his fingers through the dead grass. 

 

“I don't know, Cas, I just keep waiting. It sucks because I've got one more night before you swoop in and save me. I'm tired enough as it is, and I honestly don't want to go through this shit again. But I mean, you're gonna come flying in tonight and smack some sense into me, or so I'm hoping. Ha, here's to hoping.” 

 

Dean pressed his lips together tightly, swallowing past the thickness of his throat. It was going on four months and Dean  _ still  _ looked up, expecting Cas’ eyes to be on him. They weren't. They never were anymore. 

 

“People have some saying that you don't really know what you've got until it's gone. I thought that was bullshit because, y'know, my mom and dad and all... But I especially thought it was bullshit when it came to you,” Dean admitted with a wet chuckle, reaching up to swipe at his traitorous eyes. “I mean, how many times did you go and die on me? On- on us? What, like eight times at this point? But uh...never- never like  _ this.  _ Not  _ really.  _ But this is real and you're not coming back and- and, I get it now. I finally get that saying because, dude,  _ I had no idea. _ ” 

 

Dean wanted it to stop, wanted to force it out and away. He didn't like it lurking beneath the surface, always waiting to boil over and out into the world. Dean hated that it was there, a constant pulse of  _ ‘Cas is gone, Cas isn't coming back, Cas is dead and you're not’.  _

 

Like a dam bursting, Dean finally, after  _ months,  _ broke down and sobbed. He laid back, curling onto his side with his back to the car and placed his hands in the dead grass. His fingers curled in, gripping tight and  _ pulling _ as his mouth opened as if to let out screams, though no sound was released. 

 

Dean wanted to  _ scream _ but couldn't.

 

His nails dug into the dead earth beneath him, and there was no Cas to offer any comfort or reassurances. And with each passing moment that held silence, Dean's body racked with harsher sobs than moments before. 

 

All of the pain and grief and  _ longing _ that was pent up and locked away just poured from him, falling uselessly into the last pieces of Cas he had left. 

 

“I wish…” 

 

Dean's words choked off and he closed his eyes, aching to cry but his body refusing him that release. Despite his eyes itching beneath his eyelids, no tears would fall.  He trembled as he searched for some way to let out the grief clawing at him. 

 

Dean just didn't have the energy. 

 

And right there, curled in between Cas’ wings, Dean fell asleep. He didn't mean to and he didn't realize it happened until he was suddenly carving art, using a knife with some poor soul as his canvas. As sudden as anything, Dean was back in hell again. 

 

The soul wept, pleading for mercy, reaching out for him to find it within himself to  _ help.  _ Instead, Dean dug the knife deeper and smiled wickedly, a sick sense of satisfaction bouncing around in the hollow shell he'd become. 

 

Dean stared down, looking past the soul, searching to see the person he was inflicting such anguish upon. He  _ wanted  _ to see the person he was ripping apart,  _ wanted  _ to use that to cause more pain. 

 

After a month of doing it, Dean had become excellent at torturing others again after making himself forget how good he was in his first trip to hell. He knew ways to get any soul to scream, even the most wicked. 

 

This particular soul wasn't wicked, just stubborn. All this soul could do was call to him, plea with Dean to find the good in himself, beg him to do the right thing. As if the soul saw past the monster he was, as if there was something else waiting for him behind all that he'd become. 

 

Dean searched, digging deeper, enjoying the way the soul cried. It wasn't until he scraped past the surface that Dean realized the soul wasn't weeping because of Dean, but  _ for  _ Dean, crying for what he was doing. Intrigued, Dean dug deeper, his knife carving flames into every nerve ending as he did. 

 

The soul pleaded with him, begging him to  _ see,  _ to understand. The smile on Dean's face unfurled and fell away as he saw just who he was peeling apart for the first time. Blue eyes, pooled with tears, blinked up at him, hope blaring in those unmistakable orbs. 

 

_ Cas.  _


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was quiet as he prayed, avoiding the awkwardness he felt when he spoke out loud. Besides, he didn't know for sure if his words fell to deaf ears or not. He had no idea if Cas could hear the prayers he sent pretty much every day. He  _ hoped _ he could, hoped Cas could hear him talk about his day, hoped Cas was caught up with every update he gave, hoped Cas knew just how much they missed him, just how much  _ Dean  _ missed him. 

 

Sam never finished a prayer with  _ ‘amen’ _ , just a quick ‘ _ talk to you later, Cas’,  _ and then he'd go on about what he was doing. He couldn't ever find it within himself to actually say goodbye because Sam doubted he'd ever stop trying to keep Cas with them. It was where Cas should always have been.

 

With them. With Dean.  _ Alive.  _

 

Sighing, Sam forced his eyes open and stared out the front window, gazing at the house. Cas had really fixed it up. He smiled slightly as he pictured Cas on ladders, patching holes in the roof. The picture was shattered, his smile disappearing when he glanced over at Dean, curled up, breathing peacefully, and most definitely  _ asleep.  _

 

“Fuck,” Sam hissed, jumping out of the car, and rushing to Dean's side. “Dean,  _ Dean,  _ hey! Hey, wake up, man. Come on, Dean!” 

 

As usual, Dean was unresponsive. He almost looked dead with his pale skin and bruised eyes, his deep breaths the only signs of life. Sighing sadly, Sam leaned down and scooped Dean up into his arms with a grunt. Dead weight was a bitch, and Sam struggled to get him in the car. 

 

Dean slept the whole ride back to the bunker, even sleeping through the four hour nap he squeezed in. Once awake and halfway home, Sam listened to the wind whip through the car, his heart squeezing at the silence. 

 

It had been a while since Sam was genuinely worried about Dean's actual  _ health.  _ Yeah, he ate shitty food and didn't necessarily take care of his body properly, but Dean hadn't been like this since he'd searched out a faith healer for Dean many,  _ many  _ years ago. 

 

Fortunately for him, Dean jolted awake just as Sam was trying to figure out a way to get him in the bunker. Dean tipped forward, his hands coming up to claw at his chest as he abruptly broke out into sobs. Sam was immediately alarmed, his eyes bulging as he attempted to reach out for his brother, pieces of him cracking as Dean rocked back and forth and fucking  _ cried.  _

 

“Dean!” Sam shouted, reaching across the seat and tugging Dean towards him. “Dean, man, come on! Calm down, Dean.”

 

“Sammy,” Dean croaked out, staring at him with bleary eyes, his skin sagging and colored purple and blue. “I'm sorry,  _ I'm so sorry. _ ” 

 

“Dean, shhh,” Sam whispered, wrapping him in a tight hug as Dean sucked in ragged breaths, his whole body trembling. 

 

Dean was having a full blown panic attack. He gripped Sam tightly. Sam did his best to keep his arms locked around Dean as tight as possible as it seemed to be the only thing that was helping him breathe. Dean's tears stopped before his panic attack subsided, but he eventually calmed down. 

 

“Thanks,” Dean said gruffly as he pulled away, clearing his throat as he scrubbed at his eyes. 

 

“Dean, you're losing it, man,” Sam sighed, his eyebrows knitting in concern. “You need some help, or something. I don't know, but you can't keep dealing with this anymore.” 

 

“I need Cas to hurry up and yank me outta there,” Dean huffed tiredly. 

 

“Dean, what if he doesn't?” Sam asked warily. 

 

“He will,” Dean said in determination. 

 

“But...say he doesn't?” Sam pressed. 

 

“Then I will find him and get him back so he can fix me his-fucking-self!” Dean snapped, glaring at Sam in offense. 

 

“We don't even know where Cas is!” Sam shouted back, throwing his hands up. 

 

“So!?” Dean growled out. “I would crawl every inch of this earth, search every corner of Heaven, fight through every second of purgatory, and torture my way through hell to find him and help him. Just like I would for you!” 

 

“Cas is  _ dead! _ ” Sam exploded, fed up with Dean pawning his issues off. “This isn't about Cas. Something has happened to you and we need to figure out how to fix it. Cas is gone, Dean, and we can't help him, so just- just  _ stop! _ ” 

 

“Fuck you, Sam. You're not  _ listening  _ to me, okay? I know Cas is dead, but that doesn't mean I can't fuckin save him! He saved  _ me _ and I'll be damned if I don't try,” Dean said, his words harsh and coiled tight, unrelenting. 

 

“ Why can't you admit this is about you? That you're the one who needs the saving, not him? Cas is dead, and he won't be there to save you this time ! ” Sam challenged, gritting his teeth. 

 

He didn't understand why Dean couldn't ever just accept help. His brother, his  _ big brother,  _ was sick. Something was going on, and they needed to help him, but Dean didn't seem to be able to make it about him. 

 

And Sam missed Cas too, maybe not like Dean did, but he also wished Cas was coming back. It frightened him that Dean couldn't seem to let go, not even a little bit, not even at all. 

 

Dean's next words frightened him more. 

 

“Because, Sam, I just ripped Cas’ soul apart while he begged me to help him, and I enjoyed every fucking  _ minute  _ of it.” 

 

* * *

 

Dean didn't ask Sam to watch over him that night, but he didn't object when Sam settled into the chair beside his bed. 

 

It was supposed to be the last night in hell. It was supposed to be the night Cas saved him. Sam sincerely doubted it, and Dean really fucking hoped he was wrong. Because, if he wasn't, it meant that Dean would have to do everything in whatever power he had left in him to find Cas and get him back. 

 

He just couldn't do it anymore. 

 

Dean tried to stay up as long as he could, making small talk with Sam and trying to putter around his room and stay moving. Eventually, he sank into his mattress, getting dizzy from sleeplessness, and slurred words at Sam until those words tapered off to silence. 

 

Next thing Dean knew, he was holding a knife and staring into blue eyes. Cas was jerking and crying in grief while Dean grinned at him sharply. He didn't care, he didn't care, he didn't  _ care.  _

 

Cas screamed, oh how he screamed, and Dean couldn't help but laugh. This,  _ this,  _ was glorious. It was powerful. Cas pleaded to him, begging him to see how  _ good  _ he was, begging him to know that he was the righteous man. However, Dean was a non-believer. 

 

Torture continued for hours and not once did those blue eyes shed a tear for anything other than Dean and his soul. It felt inevitable, as if it was something he was meant for. Clearly, he truly was a monster, and it was almost relieving to relish in that. Cas sobbed for him, seemingly sensing his cruelty. 

 

“You are the righteous man!” Cas bellowed, his voice so strong that it rattled Dean's bones. 

 

“Would a righteous man enjoy torturing an angel?” Dean laughed, shoving his hands deeper with glee fluttering through him. 

 

“Dean!” Cas shouted. “You must  _ see! _ ” 

 

And just like that, Dean was staring at Cas’ grace, at his wings, at his true face. It was too much for his brain to process, too much for him to look at all at once. Cas seemed to sense that and dialed it down, only showing his grace. The beauty of it, so pure and so perfect that Dean found himself dropping his knife and, almost against his will, weeping.

 

Dean bowed into the warmth of Cas’ grace, feeling it reach out to him and cleanse him. For the first time since Dean was yanked into hell, he felt  _ clean.  _ Dean folded into Cas, gripping him tightly, trying to pull him as close as possible, begging for Cas to let him. 

 

“Back up, Dean,” Cas warned. “You will burn.” 

 

“ _ Please? _ ” Dean begged again, trying to get closer still.

 

Cas turned it off completely and blue eyes bored into green. Dean sucked in air as if he'd been drowning and swayed right into Cas’ face, reaching out to touch him in awe. Cas stared at him in pity, his arms curling around to cradle him carefully. 

 

“Let me save you,” Cas murmured, holding him close, his fingers trailing down Dean's cheek. 

 

“You already have,” Dean whispered, deflating against Cas. “You always will.” 

 

“Yes, Dean,” Cas breathed softly, his tone full of awe and love, “I will.” 

 

Cas gripped his upper arm, his grace flaring as they shot up, Dean trembling as Cas’ grace washed over him and cascaded through him. As they flew, Dean fell in love.

 

* * *

 

“ _ CAS! _ ” 

 

Dean jolted upright in the bed, his hands swiping out as he attempted to grab onto something that wasn't there. He took deep breaths and blinked around the room. Sam stared at him in sympathy from his chair, his eyes sad and drawn. He was tired now too. 

 

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam murmured. 

 

“He saved me,” Dean whispered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Sam, he  _ saved  _ me.” 

 

“He did?” Sam asked, leaning forward. 

 

“He- I saw him. I mean, I really,  _ really _ saw him. His true form, his wings, his grace. Man, he just flew me outta there like fucking Superman or something,” Dean told Sam, awe bleeding into his words. 

 

“So, that's it?” Sam mumbled. “No more hell?” 

 

“I- I don't know,” Dean admitted. 

 

“Take a nap,” Sam replied abruptly. 

 

“Excuse me?” Dean blurted, his eyebrows rising. 

 

“There's only one way to find out.” 

 

Sam was completely right. Dean hated that, but it was true. After going on for months with doing his best to  _ not _ sleep, it seemed impossible for him to actually try to sleep. He was tired enough, not getting actual rest since Cas died, but it felt  _ wrong.  _

 

“Okay.” 

 

Dean laid back down and swallowed thickly. He stared up at the ceiling, blinking against his heavy eyelids. He wasn't going to be able to do it. There was no way that he was going to be able to just fall asleep after all that- 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean woke up three days later to a snarling stomach. When he groaned and turned over, yawning and smacking his lips as he rubbed his stomach, Dean almost forgot it  _ worked.  _

 

“Sam!” Dean shouted, flying out of the bed and rushing out into the hall. 

 

“Dean?” Sam yelled back, meeting Dean in the kitchen, his face full of hope. 

 

“I  _ slept, _ ” Dean said, eyes wide. 

 

“No hell?” Sam asked. 

 

“No hell,” Dean laughed. 

 

“Holy shit,” Sam laughed, his chuckle just shy of hysterical with worry and relief. 

 

“I know,” Dean said with a grin. 

 

“And?” Sam chuckled. “How do you feel?” 

 

“Like I could sleep for another week after eating a whole pig by myself,” Dean shot off, shuffling over to the fridge. 

 

“There's a lot of leftovers,” Sam told him as Dean started pulling food out. 

 

“Yeah, there is!” Dean exclaimed happily. 

 

After four months of hell finally being over, Dean actually wasn't forcing his happiness. He genuinely felt good, genuinely felt like everything was going to be okay. 

 

As he heated up food, Dean thumbed through his phone, typing a message to Cas about the new development before he could even remember why he shouldn't. 

 

Just like that, Dean felt all of his happiness slip away and die. He blinked and stared at the last message he sent Cas. 

 

_ Yeah.  _

 

That's it. That's all that he'd said and the longer Dean stared at the word, the more he hated it. Why didn't he say goodbye or even something more important like,  _ hey, you're family and I'll never get over you being gone. _

 

It didn't feel right. The microwave beeped; Dean ignored it, fixated on  _ Yeah.  _ The longer he stared, the more it pissed him off. And Dean realised then, that maybe a big part of grief was anger at all the things you never shared with a person before they were gone. All those words, sitting at the back of Dean’s throat for  _ years _ , swallowed down and never said, despite the life they lived. 

 

It was stupid, so fucking  _ stupid,  _ to keep it to himself, to never let Cas know just what he meant to Dean, to Sam, to the whole fucking world. Why hadn't he said it? 

 

He should have known better than to think that Cas was forever. Cas couldn't be forever, not in their life, no matter how many times God brought him back to them. Eventually, their luck would run out and Dean knew that, he  _ knew  _ it, but he never imagined it would actually happen. 

 

Fuck, he was so stupid. 

 

“Dean?” Sam murmured, concern leaking into his tone as he scooted back from the table. 

 

“Hmm?” Dean hummed offhandedly, staring at the last message without blinking. 

 

“You alright?” Sam questioned cautiously. 

 

“What?” Dean mumbled, clearing his throat and closing his phone. “Yeah, I'm- Yeah.” 

 

“You gonna eat?” 

 

“I'm actually still pretty tired. I think I'll just go back to sleep for now.” 

 

“Dean, you haven't eaten in three days,” Sam told him, standing up and walking over. 

 

“It's not a big deal,” Dean replied, shrugging before he just turned and walked to his room, leaving Sam gaping after him. 

 

Dean didn't sleep but he got horizontal, resting his arm behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling without really seeing it. 

 

He felt foolish because in some way, he'd fooled himself into thinking that Cas was actually back. Somehow, he'd managed to align the Cas in his dreams to the Cas in his life. He thought, for just a second, that Cas had come back when he flew them out of hell, somehow pulling himself back into life this time instead of Dean. 

 

Which, he hadn't actually thought about Cas being gone. Like, really,  _ truly _ gone. He was gone, Dean knew that, but it was the part about him not coming back that was messing him up. Cas always came back, no matter what happened, no matter how he left. 

 

But this time, he was genuinely gone. Dean knew it, could feel it like a sore on his insides he couldn't get ahold of to patch up. 

 

He'd been so relieved when Cas stepped back through that rift, only to have that relief snatched away and mangled into absolute shock and dread as the angel blade shoved through his back. Cas had gone many times but never like that, never with the light dying in his eyes, never with his grace exploding from him to never return, never with fucking wings scorched on the grass. 

 

It wasn't fair. 

 

Dean sighed and closed his eyes, replaying those last few moments with Cas. He'd been a smartass, but he couldn't help it. Cas had been gone, protecting Jack and Kelly, completely off the radar. Naturally, Dean had been pissed off about it. 

 

He wished he would have taken the time to actually talk to Cas. Maybe not about Kelly and Jack, but to just give them a fleeting moment of happiness before Cas died. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so guilty, wouldn't feel the loss like a pit in his chest, swallowing him up from the inside out. Maybe. 

 

And suddenly, Dean didn't want to think about it anymore. He didn't want to keep dealing with the fact that he was alive, and Cas wasn't. He didn't want to think about all the shit that he let fall through the cracks just because Cas had never actually been gone before, because he'd always come back. Except, this time, he didn't. 

 

So...Dean slept. 


	3. Chapter 3

Sam eventually forced him out of bed and into the kitchen, making him eat. Dean just picked at his food, taking a few bites, working on keeping it down. He felt empty and every bite he took threatened to come back up, but he ate for Sam's sake and sanity. 

 

Sam was talking about Jack, talking about finding him, talking about what they were supposed to do next. Dean found he didn't really care, that he didn't  _ want _ to do anything. 

 

Since he'd burned Cas’ body, Dean hadn't put much thought into the next steps. And now that he was able to sleep again, that's all he wanted to do. Just sleep and forget. 

 

“I'm searching for Jack now,” Sam informed him, clicking away on his laptop. 

 

“Okay,” Dean replied, still pushing his food around his plate with his fork. 

 

“When we find him, we're going to have to go get him,” Sam told him seriously, glancing up at him quickly, his eyebrows dipped low. 

 

“Kill him, you mean,” Dean corrected. 

 

“Ah, maybe not, Dean,” Sam sighed, his eyes firmly on the screen as he said that. 

 

“What?” Dean blurted, abruptly coming to life, blinking at Sam. 

 

“Well, for one, we don't even know  _ how  _ to kill him and for two, we don't know if he should be killed... yet,” Sam mumbled.

 

“He's the son of  _ Lucifer,  _ Sam,” Dean reminded, his words sharp and harsh. 

 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed mildly, like  _ no big deal, no issue here, _ “and I'm Lucifer's true vessel.” 

 

“That's not the same-” 

 

“Lucifer and I have always had an unfortunate connection. Jack doesn't even  _ know _ Lucifer.” 

 

“He needs to be taken out,” Dean insisted. 

 

“Taken out?” Sam huffed, his lips twitching as he shook his head. “Do yourself a favor and never say that again in your life.” 

 

Dean didn't even laugh, or defend himself. 

 

“When we find him, we kill him,” Dean ordered firmly, allowing no argument. 

 

Except, Sam  _ always  _ argued. 

 

“No, Dean,” Sam growled out. “We're not going to just kill some kid. He hasn't  _ done  _ anything!” 

 

“He's the reason Cas is dead!” Dean bellowed, shoving from the table and glaring down at Sam's shocked state. “I see him, I'm going to kill him. No one, not you, not Lucifer, not even God is going to stop me from that.” 

 

“Dean-” 

 

“ _ No.  _ Fuck that.” 

 

Dean barrelled out the kitchen and - after slamming the door and shutting off the lights - took refuge in his room. He wasn't going to be able to sleep, no matter how much he wanted to, but he could shove some really loud music over his ears and ignore the world for a while. 

 

So, Dean did. 

 

With Gene Simmons yelling at him, Dean glared up at the dim ceiling. His brain ran around in circles, always coming to the same conclusion. 

 

It was simple. Jack sabotaged Cas, tricking him into thinking the world could be all rainbows and butterflies. Which, what the hell was that about anyway? If the world was capable of being perfect, Dean would like to think they would've found out how by now. It was impossible, so that was out. 

 

But Jack got Cas on his side, and he hadn't even departed from his mother's womb.  _ Then  _ he was born, putting them all in danger and making Cas  _ refuse  _ to leave. And that,  _ that,  _ was why Cas was dead. Because, Jack, the son of fucking Satan, was bad news, really bad news. 

 

Dean didn't understand how Sam couldn't see that, how Sam didn't realize that the fucking kid should've never been born. If they would've just stuck to the original plan, Cas would be alive and safe. But instead, that kid infected his mind before he could even  _ talk.  _

 

Suddenly, Dean didn't just want to sleep. He wanted to get up, go find Jack, and bring an end to the situation. Sam might want to save the kid, might want to help him, even. 

 

But Dean? 

 

Dean was going to kill him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Sam found Jack quickly, and Dean didn't know why he was invited. There was no more discussion on what they were going to do with him, but Sam knew how Dean was, knew how he felt about the situation. 

 

It started off easy. 

 

The kid wasn't so much a kid as he was a man. He could've been anywhere between nineteen or twenty-three. Either way, he stood tall with light blonde hair and golden eyes. 

 

When they met him face to face, Dean was struck with how much he resembled Cas. Maybe it was subtle and maybe Sam didn't immediately see it, but it hit Dean full force right away. 

 

That alone, with no talking done at all, had Dean raising his gun and firing. It felt good for all of ten seconds before he and Sam were being hurtled through the air as Jack took off and ran. With ringing in his ears, Dean realized it was going to be a lot harder to kill Jack than he'd hoped. 

 

Still, he would find a way. 

 

Sam bitched at him as they rushed to find Jack, but Dean didn't particularly care. Even with Sam's  _ ‘He is just a kid, Dean’  _ and  _ ‘You can't kill him’  _ and  _ ‘It isn't right, Dean, you know that _ ’, Dean wasn't at all swayed. That fucking tilt to Jack's head and his squinting eyes solidified what had to be done, what Dean  _ had  _ to do, whether Sam agreed or not. 

 

It was a bit harder to find Jack than the first time around, but not impossible. The first time, Jack was at a park in the middle of a regular suburban neighborhood. Apparently, a cop and her son had taken Jack in when he'd been picked up for walking around nude. With no papers, no clue as to who he was, she'd been given the go-ahead to watch after him until her superiors worked it out. 

 

That meant two things. 

 

Jack either went back to his makeshift home  _ or  _ he ran away to some unknown place in hopes of leading the bad men with guns  _ away  _ from his makeshift family. They decided to check the house first, hiding all weapons away before ringing the doorbell. 

 

“Do  _ not  _ shoot him,” Sam hissed, leveling Dean with a glare that practically bled disappointment. 

 

“Well, obviously,” Dean grunted back. “That's clearly not gonna do any damage.” 

 

“Dean,” Sam growled out, “ _ stop.  _ We are not killing this kid. Not yet.” 

 

Dean didn't reply, not particularly in the mood to argue with Sam. The door eventually jerked open and a kid with shaggy dark hair looked up at them, a pair of headphones dangling from his fingers. He already looked suspicious, his eyes narrowed, fingers tight around the door. 

 

“Can I help you?” The boy asked tersely, body tense and ready to slam the door quickly. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” Sam started and cleared his throat, face soft and open. “Is Jack here by chance?” 

 

“Why do you wanna know?” The kid shot back, his chin jerking up in a challenge. 

 

“Cut the crap, kid. Where is he?” 

 

All eyes swiveled to Dean. Sam was clearly unhappy with how Dean handled it, and the kid went very still. Warning bells were no doubt ringing in his head, and Dean caught the door just as the kid abruptly attempted to slam it closed. The kid glared up at him, and Dean just rolled his eyes, shoving past him. 

 

“Dean,” Sam snapped, apologizing to the kid as he stalked in behind Dean. 

 

“ _ Jack! _ ” Dean shouted, eyes flitting between the stairs and a closed door, no doubt heading to the kitchen or dining room. “We're not going to shoot you, kid, come on out!” 

 

“Dean, you’re being ridiculous,” Sam told him in a way that, on a better day, Dean would suddenly need to call Sam a bitch. 

 

“Don't hurt him, please.” A voice from upstairs floated down, sounding oddly too gentle for the situation.

 

Dean’s palms itched with the need to grab his gun as Jack slowly descended the stairs, wariness obvious in his frame. He faced them and eyed the kid behind them, something like worry or guilt on his face. Dean frowned and took a deep breath, his heart racing in his chest. He couldn’t kill him yet, but he was going to find out a way to do that. 

 

“Yo, Jack, don't even worry about these douchebags, man. Mom will be home soon, alright? Just go back upstairs,” The kid said, still standing at the door. 

 

“Sorry, no can do. He needs to come with us,” Dean said with a sarcastic smile that was anything but happy. “Time to go, kid. Get to stepping.”

 

“Listen,” Sam said gently, pausing to throw Dean a look of complete disdain, “I’m Sam and this is my brother, Dean. Don't mind him, alright? He’s just a bit of a jerk.”

 

“He’s not going anywhere with either of you, so  _ fuck off, _ ” The kid said, huffing. 

 

“Jack,” Sam murmured, “we can help you, okay? We can explain about your mother and- and even your dad. Dean is sorry for shooting you, he’s just defensive.”

 

“You know my mother?” Jack asked, perking up.

 

“We knew her, yeah,” Sam answered easily. 

 

“She’s dead,” Dean said flatly. 

 

“Dean!” Sam blurted, eyes wide with pure shock while Jack frowned and swallowed thickly before looking at down his shoes. 

 

“Pfft,” Dean huffed, rolling his eyes, “the kid didn't even know her. Whatever,  _ let’s go. _ ”

 

“Jack,” Sam tried again, “we have  _ a lot  _ to explain, and I promise you that you will understand everything very soon, okay? Let us help you.”

 

Jack stayed where he was for a moment, glancing back up with a frown. Clearly, he was indecisive about the whole ordeal. Dean was ten seconds from reaching out and yanking him with them anyway when Jack slowly took a step forward. The kid behind them made a noise of disbelief and protest, making Jack pause again. 

 

“Jack, you can't go with them! They shot at you, dude.”

 

“I can trust them,” Jack replied quietly, eyeing the boy seriously. 

 

“How do you know!?” The boy retorted sharply. “How do you know they aren't about to take you and kill you?”

 

“I just know,” Jack said and smiled widely. “They will not hurt me.”   
  


“Yeah, yeah,” Dean snapped. “Just fucking come on.”

 

Sam shot him a glare. 

 

“Come on, Jack,” Sam whispered softly, kindly. “Let’s go home.”

 

It was Dean’s turn to shoot Sam a glare. 

 

Sam ignored it as they headed out to Baby, the kid still protesting as they left. Jack stayed at Sam’s side, occasionally offering a few glances towards Dean, which were ignored. 

 

As they all got in the Impala, Dean tried to calm the anger boiling in him, but it was impossible. Every glance in the rearview mirror had Dean growing only more furious. Sure, the kid was smiling for absolutely no fucking reason, but that didn't mean he wasn't evil, that he wasn't the reason Cas was gone. Still grinning, Jack leaned forward. 

 

“So, where is home?” 

 

Baby skidded as Dean abruptly slammed on the brakes, forcing the car to do a slight twirl on the vacated road. Sam groaned after hitting his head on the window, but Dean didn't pay any attention as he whirled around in his seat to stare at Jack. The kid blinked surprised eyes at him, cloudy confusion in his gaze that was so familiar it hurt. 

 

“Where we are going is  _ not  _ your home. You will  _ not  _ be living here. You have no place there, in fact, you have no place on  _ Earth. _ You will be here until you’re handled, am I clear?” 

 

Jack just stared at him, his face crumbling into shame. 

 

“I said,” Dean snapped, “ _ am I clear? _ ” 

 

“Yes, Dean,” Jack whispered. “You’re clear.”

 

“Good,” Dean growled, swiveling to pin a look on Sam that had him swallowing whatever argument he had prepared. 

 

There was silence all the way back to the bunker and Dean found himself thinking of his father, of his curt words, of his sharp statements. Dean almost regretted the ‘ _ Am I clear _ ’ because that was stolen right from the John Winchester handbook, but his mind abruptly swiveled back to Cas and any trace of regret was gone. 


	4. Chapter 4

The pounding on the door was cause enough for murder. Dean was absolutely going to  _ kill _ whoever was waking him up. Groaning, Dean shoved himself from beneath his pillows and stumbled out of bed, blinking around blearily. 

 

“What!?” He yelled. 

 

“Wake up,” Sam shouted back. “We need to talk.”

 

Grumbling under his breath, Dean walked over to the door and yanked it open, wearing an expression that suggested bodily harm was about to happen. Sam arched an eyebrow at his haphazard appearance and waited. 

 

“Well?” Dean barked. “What is it?” 

 

“It's about Jack.” 

 

“I don't care.” 

 

Dean went to shut the door again, already anticipating the feel of his mattress. Sam reached out and caught the door, his hand slapping against the wood. Pursing his lips, Dean grunted and walked back over to his bed, leaning down to grab a shirt off the floor. 

 

“Dean, he doesn't know how to use his powers, okay?” Sam sighed, stepping in the room and shutting the door quietly. 

 

“Bullshit,” Dean retorted. 

 

“No, seriously. He said he only threw us across the room by instinct. He can't just make it happen,” Sam explained. 

 

“So, point a gun at him then.” 

 

“ _ Dean. _ ” 

 

“What? Why do you even care?” 

 

“Think about it, Dean. Before he was even born, he opened up a rift to another world, right? He can probably do it again, and Mom's over there.”

 

“Yeah, with  _ Lucifer. _ Mom is dead, Sam.” 

 

“We don't know that.” 

 

“Well,” Dean snapped, “what do you think fucking happened? You think she kicked his ass and is waiting for us to save her?” 

 

“Maybe,” Sam replied, frowning. “I don't know for sure. We don't know either way, Dean. We can't say she's dead for sure either.” 

 

“Okay, so why are you telling me this? I have shit to do,” Dean growled, sitting down on his bed and grabbing his boots. 

 

“Like what?” Sam asked. 

 

“Research.” 

 

“Research.  _ You're  _ going to research. What, Dean? What exactly are you going to research?” 

 

“There's gotta be a way to put the kid down, and I'm gonna find out how,” Dean said casually. 

 

“Dean, we've talked about this,” Sam hissed. 

 

“No,  _ you've  _ talked about it.” 

 

“Why are you so dead set on this, Dean? Jack doesn't have to be some- some evil thing, okay? He's got a bad start, I know that, but so did I. You helped me, now help me again. Help me help him. He's  _ just  _ a kid.” 

 

“Yeah,  _ just _ the devil's kid.” 

 

“Dean, he thinks that- that Cas is his dad.” 

 

Dean went very still, every muscle locking up. Every thought in his mind escaped and instead a perfect image of Cas formed in front of his eyes. The head tilting, the eye squinting, the eyebrows of confusion. No. 

 

No _fucking_ way.

 

“What did you just say?” Dean breathed out, feeling as if he'd been punched in the gut. 

 

“Kelly told Jack that Cas would protect him, that this world was a dangerous place. It's why he's a grown man and not an infant. I guess, Jack made that connection, to believe that Cas is his dad,” Sam explained easily, as if Dean's whole world wasn't being ripped apart. 

 

Dean wasn't sure why it was messing with him so much. It shouldn't have, shouldn't have mattered at all. The kid was wrong, without a doubt, but for some unexplainable reason, Dean couldn't get over it. 

 

Somehow, it brought another wave of grief, of aching for Cas to just  _ ‘be here’,  _ but it also pissed Dean off. A flush spread over Dean, and he was on his feet in a flash, suddenly determined to get to that fucking kid and set him straight. 

 

“Move!” Dean shouted as soon as Sam reached out, shoving him back; no doubt recognizing Dean's fight stance automatically. 

 

“Dean, come on,” Sam huffed, holding out his hands and staring at him in disapproval. “Why are you being like this, man?” 

 

“Cas isn't that kid's dad,” Dean stated, his hands clenching and unclenching as he shifted in place, a restless energy pulsing through him. 

 

“I know that, but what would you rather Jack think? That he's literally Satan's son or that he's Cas’ son?” Sam asked seriously. 

 

“He is  _ not _ Cas’ son!” Dean burst out, turning around and lashing out, shoving the pictures on his desk to the ground with an ominous clatter. 

 

“Dean, what do you think Cas would've wanted for Jack?” Sam challenged, standing his ground without hesitation. “He wanted to help Jack, was  _ going to,  _ and cared for him.” 

 

“It doesn't  _ matter, _ ” Dean hissed, his voice getting louder on each word. “You wanna know where that got Cas, huh!?  _ IT GOT HIM DEAD! _ ”

 

And there was the pity. 

 

Understanding lit up Sam's face before it fell into unapologetic pity. Pity  _ for  _ Dean, like Sam shouldn't have been upset too. If he understood, why wasn't he just as pissed? Why did Dean feel like he was left all alone in the anger and bitterness? It  _ was  _ called for. It was for Cas. 

 

“Dean,” Sam murmured gently, “why, uh, don't you take a few days to visit the cabin?” 

 

Both of them were very aware that it wasn't the cabin that Dean went to visit, but Dean didn't correct him. He wanted to tell Sam that it wasn't like that, wanted to yell that talking to the shape of Cas’ wings burned into the ground wasn't going to do shit for him. 

 

Sam just didn't get it. Maybe he missed Cas, but not like Dean did, not with an all-consuming throb in his chest. That was becoming very clear, but Dean didn't know how to handle that. It didn't make sense.

 

He just swallowed thickly and nodded. 

 

“Yeah, I could get away for awhile.” 

 

Sam looked at him sadly and reached out, clapping him on the shoulder. He squeezed, a touch of comfort from one brother to another. 

 

Dean was abruptly reminded of the time he'd done the same for Sam when Jess died, knowing there wasn't anything he could do to help Sam but wishing he could, just giving a squeeze to try and convey that he was there _.  _

 

Dean realized now that it hadn't mattered to Sam. It had done  _ nothing. _ Because, Sam's hand on his shoulder, squeezing to press love and support into him, didn't help at all in any way whatsoever. It was practically pointless. 

 

“Just call me when you get there,” Sam murmured softly, offering a gentle smile as he dropped his hand. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean replied, his tone flat and empty, no emotion at all, “okay.” 

 

With that, Dean just left.

 

* * *

 

“You have no idea how badly I want to kill him, Cas. He deserves it. He's the fucking son of the  _ Devil.  _ He's bad news, you know?” 

 

Of course, there was no reply. 

 

Dean glared down at the dead grass, shaped into wings. No matter how many times Dean had seen them, he couldn't fathom how they were there. It didn't work for him, didn't measure up in his head. Cas being gone, leaving only his wings behind, didn't make sense. 

 

It was _ wrong.  _

 

Dean sighed and dropped his head into his hands. He knew, begrudgingly, that he couldn't keep coming back. It only sent him awash with a new bitterness, a sense of being done wrong lighting within him every time he walked on the land where Cas took his last breath. 

 

“Why is this so hard?” Dean muttered, grasping at his hair and blinking down at his lap. 

 

Briefly, the air around him swirled, a gentle wind picking up and floating across his skin, and leaves circled the sky. Dean lifted his head, watching the sea of orange and brown hovering above the lake before falling down. 

 

Dean almost wished he was an artist. He wanted to be able to capture that moment and explain a story with it that left any observer changed. 

 

Wanting to believe it meant something, Dean stood and watched as the trees swayed, sending another wave of leaves dipping through the air. An ache started in his chest, a small throb that had nothing to do with all the bacon he'd consumed over the span of his life and everything to do with the fact that he wished someone else was there to witness the beauty of seasons changing. 

 

Cas would've loved it. He would've stood beside Dean silently, his eyes turned up to watch the show, a look of serenity on his face. 

 

Somehow, despite being a cosmic being that had every right to look at humanity and everything to do with it, including the seasons, with the equivalency of a human spotting the most annoying gnat, Cas would've found peace in the moment. Dean knew with complete certainty that if Cas had never entered his life, he would've never appreciated the moment at all. 

 

Maybe that's what it was all about. Maybe that was why Dean needed Cas. For an actual angel - a being that had existed before life had ever entered it's first trimester - Cas loved and appreciated everything to do with humanity more than Dean did, who was a  _ human,  _ and maybe even more than God himself, who had created it with a mere  _ idea.  _

 

Cas loved humanity, and Dean fought for it relentlessly. Cas was a constant reminder of why he did so. Dean often questioned the worth of fighting for something he didn't always believe in. But Cas? He never lost faith, not in humanity, not in  _ Dean.  _ Even if Dean sometimes needed a not-so-gentle reminder of  _ why _ it was important. 

  
“Man,” Dean breathed, cracking a smile and glancing down at the wings, “you remember that time you showed up on my car, naked and covered in bees? I mean, you were a little crazy but still. I didn't get it, just chalked it up to you having gone crazy. But even then, it was about humanity for you, wasn't it? What would we do without bees? Humanity needs ‘em.  _ Just like I need you. _ ”


	5. Chapter 5

Research wasn't going well at all. 

 

It was especially hard because the very thing he was researching how to kill continuously walked in and out of the room as he pleased. 

 

The kid had taken one look at the stack of books, noticed the stiff smell of old documents, blinked at the glow of the laptop, and offered to freaking help. That had set Dean off, and Sam was left to drag the kid from the room, trying to explain away the hurt look on his face. 

 

Dean did not regret it. 

 

Pouring over books and constantly cross-referencing led him to more questions than he'd started with. He almost wished for reprieve from his current project, but then Jack would walk by and he'd start slamming books open with new vigor. And yet, there was nothing. 

 

There were multiple references to nephilim being aliens, or related to them, but nothing gave a clear concise statement of what exactly they were. Yeah, Dean knew what Jack was, knew that he was the result of mixing angel and human, but Jack wasn't the product of just any angel. He couldn't be treated as any regular nephilim, but he obviously wasn't an alien either. Either way, he couldn't find shit on file on how to kill the son of Lucifer. 

 

There were plenty of ways to kill angels, even archangels, and plenty of ways to kill nephilim but Jack specifically? Zilch. 

 

Dean wrote a list, crossing out  _ gunshot _ at the top. He considered just trying shit out until he found something that stuck, but Sam wouldn't stand for that. The scorched imprint of Cas’ wings flickered through his mind multiple times, strengthening his resolve each time. 

 

Dean knew that he only had a few options left. He could call an angel and get the information, or he could just hand Jack over, but that felt sleazy and like a last, desperate resort. If not that, Dean could use his resources. 

 

Sighing, Dean picked up his phone and made the call, already dreading it. 

 

“Why, Dean, you don't usually call,” Rowena answered, her accent curling in amusement. 

 

Dean  _ still  _ couldn't believe she was alive. 

 

“Listen up,” Dean gritted out, standing up and grabbing his keys, “I want to make a deal.” 

 

“Well, I'm not in the business of making deals, Dean,” Rowena hummed. “My son handled that, as you know. Unfortunately, he is dead, so I believe that you are on your own.” 

 

“Yeah, but I think you're going to like this,” Dean spat, gritting his teeth before continuing. “It involves the grimoire and magic.” 

 

“Oh?” Rowena tittered. “You have my attention.”

 

“Where can we meet?” Dean grumbled. 

 

“Oh, I know just the place.”    
  


 

* * *

 

 

“Hello,” Rowena greeted pleasantly, her lips stretched into a grin. “How are we, dear?” 

 

“Just peachy,” Dean huffed, settling into the bar stool and glancing around in surprise. “You chose to meet at a bar?” 

 

“Not just any bar,” Rowena sighed dramatically, flapping a hand. “My son frequently took me here. It was one of the only places you could walk a young beautiful woman inside wearing chains and not get a second look.” 

 

“Crowley took you out for drinks while holding you hostage?” Dean blurted, raising his eyebrows at her. 

 

“Of course,” Rowena tutted, rolling her eyes and swiveling to face Dean. “He wouldn't dare let me out of his sight, plus he used me to spell the bartender in giving him free whiskey.” 

 

“Of course, he did,” Dean chuckled, cracking a small smile and shaking his head. 

 

“You and my son,” Rowena prompted, narrowing her eyes. “You were close, yes?” 

 

“Um,” Dean muttered, blinking. “I wouldn't say  _ close  _ but, uh, we were… I don't know actually? We acknowledged each other, and helped each other, and tried to kill each other. So yeah...” 

 

“You were friends,” Rowena stated, nodding and pursing her lips. 

 

“Um, well,” Dean started, his eyebrows drawing together as he glanced at her, “I wouldn't say-” 

 

“It explains why he did what he did,” Rowena murmured, smacking her teeth and shaking her head in disappointment. “Fergus never had any friends growing up as it was, you know? Poor thing. You made him weak.” 

 

“ _ I  _ didn't do anything,” Dean huffed, rolling his eyes. “Crowley was- He wasn't the worst, I guess. At least, not always.” 

 

“Wow,” Rowena hummed, “you  _ were _ friends. Oh my, you must miss him.” 

 

“I mean, yeah,” Dean admitted, clearing his throat and frowning at her. “Don't you?” 

 

“I wish I could say I didn't,” Rowena sighed. 

 

“Um,” Dean mumbled awkwardly, not entirely sure how he ended up in a random bar with Rowena, talking about missing Crowley. 

 

“Oh, let's not talk about that now,” Rowena said, perking up and pinning Dean with yet another enthusiastic smile. “So you wish to make a deal? You say it involves the grimoire?” 

 

“I need a favor and it involves you possibly using the book,” Dean sighed, reaching up to scrub at his face. 

 

“And what favor is this?” Rowena asked. 

 

“You had the power to weaken Lucifer for us and put him back in the cage, even if Crowley fucked that up,” Dean pointed out. 

 

“Yes,” Rowena confirmed, narrowing her eyes. 

 

“Is there a way to diminish power in all beings, no matter how powerful?” Dean murmured, leaning against the counter. 

 

“I suppose, yes,” Rowena said, pursing her lips before snapping her fingers and sitting up straight. “There  _ is  _ a spell that grabs onto any power source and drains it. The spell would render the source powerless for a few moments before it stopped and let it soak back in.” 

 

“So, uh, it could basically turn a powerful person into just a regular human for a few moments?” 

 

“It truly depends on the powerful person.” 

 

“What about a nephilim?” 

 

Rowena's eyes widened and she stared at him, her mouth opening and closing. Dean waited, not giving any extra information, as he watched Rowena worked through her expressions before clearing her throat. She swung her head around and threw her hand up at the bartender. The man behind the counter immediately pulled down two glasses. 

 

“That's a bit different, dear,” Rowena stated carefully, taking her glass as the bartender slid them over to her and Dean. 

 

“Can you or not?” Dean snapped. 

 

“Not with that spell,” Rowena admitted, “no.” 

 

Anger gripped Dean as he flung the glass full of whiskey at the wall, barely registering the action before he'd already done it. The bartender glanced up sharply and Rowena raised her hand again, making the bartender immediately start another drink. 

 

“Fuck,” Dean breathed out, his head dipping as he stared down at his shaking hands. 

 

“If I may,” Rowena started cautiously. 

 

“You may  _ not, _ ” Dean croaked out. 

 

“What is this all about, dearie?” Rowena continued anyway, her voice deceptively soft. 

 

“Nothing,” Dean sighed, looking up as the bartender pressed the second drink into his shaking hands. “You can't help, and it's fucking pointless. It's all pointless.” 

 

“You're grieving,” Rowena realized, surprise in her tone. “Surely, you and Fergus weren't  _ that  _ close. I would've noticed, I think.” 

 

“Not Crowley, you fucking-” Dean cut himself off, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

 

“Oh,” Rowena murmured. “This is about the angel, then.” 

 

“Shut up,” Dean said flatly, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a deep swallow. 

 

“I didn't know him as well as I would've liked, in all honesty,” Rowena admitted, shrugging slightly and sighing dreamily. “He was awfully handsome, wasn't he?” 

 

“Rowena,” Dean growled out, a warning. 

 

“Alright, alright,” Rowena muttered, heaving a sigh. “I'll leave you be about him.” 

 

“You can't help me,” Dean announced, going to stand up and pausing when Rowena reached out and gripped his arm. 

 

“Alas,” Rowena murmured, raising her glass and taking a delicate sip, her eyes sparkling in mischief over the rim, “I said I couldn't do it with  _ that  _ spell. However, I do have something to help you.” 

 

“What is it, and do you need the grimoire?” Dean asked immediately. 

 

“I don't,” Rowena admitted reluctantly. 

 

“So, you won't do it,” Dean concluded bitterly.

 

“You're going to do all of the heavy lifting and after this, I don't want to be bothered,” Rowena said, her eyes uncharacteristically soft. 

 

“Wait,” Dean breathed, blinking rapidly, “you- You're going to do this?” 

 

“I said I was a changed woman, and I wasn't lying,” Rowena told him, raising her glass at him before polishing it off in one clean gulp. 

 

Dean followed suit, satisfaction filling him up, drowning out the image of scorched wings.    
  
  


* * *

 

Dean entered the kitchen the following morning, dressed for the day and holding a bag. He got two steps in when he froze. Sam and Jack glanced up from the table, staring at him warily. There were papers in front of the both, and if Dean wasn't mistaken, it was… _ math? _

 

“What, are you his teacher now?” Dean muttered, walking over to the fridge and reaching in for a water bottle. 

 

“It's things he needs to know,” Sam said seriously, tracking Dean's movements suspiciously. “Where are you off to?” 

 

“Why does he need to know?” Dean asked, ignoring Sam's question. 

 

“Sam says it's important to have a basic understanding of the school curriculum,” Jack spoke up, his tone overly cheerful for Dean's tastes. “I enjoy science the most.” 

 

“You defeat all laws of science, kid,” Dean said gruffly, not even sparing him a glance. 

 

“Dean,” Sam said, standing up, “where are you going? You're packed as if you'll be gone a few days. What's up, man?” 

 

“Got a case,” Dean lied, shutting the fridge door and heading towards the door. 

 

“What!?” Sam burst out, reaching out to yank Dean to a stop. “Dude, you can't go on a case alone. What the hell?” 

 

“There's a case,” Dean said, his words flat and dead. “You're busy. I'm going.” 

 

“Ask Jody if-” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Dean,” Sam murmured, his eyebrows drawing together in concern, “I don't think it would be good for you to go alone.” 

 

“Well, you got the kid, so,” Dean explained flippantly, shrugging. 

 

“I can join you,” Jack said abruptly, standing and staring at Dean with wide eyes full of hope. 

 

Dean averted his eyes, completely unable to even look at him. He chose to raise his eyebrows at Sam instead. Sam frowned at him, glancing back at Jack before biting his lip. 

 

“We could come,” Sam agreed. 

 

“What the fuck,” Dean burst out, shock traveling up his spine. “Absolutely  _ not,  _ Sam.” 

 

“Dean,” Sam argued, his hands pushing out as if to calm him down. 

 

“No, Sam,” Dean growled, cutting his eyes to the kid, noticing his crestfallen face. 

 

_ ‘Good’.  _

 

“You shouldn't be alone,” Sam insisted. 

 

“Well, cars shouldn't be electric but hey, shit happens,” Dean replied sarcastically, throwing his hands out and rolling his eyes. 

 

“Dean, I'm not letting you go alone right now, okay?” Sam reiterated seriously, his face stupidly soft and pitying. 

 

“Well,” Dean said, running his tongue under his top lip and smiling bitterly at Sam, “I guess it's a good thing you're not my fucking mom, isn't it?” 

 

It was a low blow, Dean knew that, but it felt good anyway. Sam's face crumbled into disbelief before quickly morphing into anger, his jaw jumping with all the things he no doubt wanted to curse Dean up and down with. Dean didn't stick around to see if he would, choosing instead to stride out and get to his Baby, cranking her up and getting the hell out. 

 

* * *

 

Dean bypassed the wings altogether, opting to head straight in the house. It looked as it did the last time he entered, a bit battered but cozy all the same. Cas had been doing a good job as far as Dean could tell, most holes in the walls patched up and no obvious leaks anywhere. Dean imagined Cas fixing the place up by hand as he stomped up the steps, something about the image of Cas on a ladder with a hammer making it hard to breathe. 

 

Dean warily entered the room Kelly had given birth and died in, easing the door open and staring around. It was strange being in here, realizing that a woman had died giving birth to Lucifer’s freaking son in that very room. Dean shuddered at the idea of  _ birth _ and pushed into the room, making a beeline for the bed. 

 

“Come on, come on,” Dean chanted, yanking the covers to the floor and pushing at the pillows lining the headboard. “Aha! Got it.”

 

Dean leaned down and pinched his fingers around the strand of hair that stood prominently against the sheets. He sighed and held it up, staring at what was possibly the last piece of Kelly Kline left in the world. 

 

Shrugging off the feeling of being a complete asshole, Dean dropped the stand of hair into a clear ziplock bag. He knew what the strand of hair was going to be used for was the exact opposite of what Kelly would've wanted, but she was dead, so Dean took it anyway. 

 

He only felt slightly guilty for doing that. 

 

Dean left the house a whole lot quicker than he entered, heading straight for Baby. His stride was determined, his thoughts on his self-appointed mission. He had to call Rowena and find out what he needed to do next, but he dreaded it. 

 

Heaving a mournful sigh, Dean glanced out at the lake, his eyes automatically falling to the pair of wings on the ground. He faltered, shock whipping through him harshly, because somehow, he had forgotten how starkly they stood out against the dead earth, like an omen. 

 

He was walking towards them before he could talk himself out of it, his heart free-falling to the pit of his stomach as he drew closer, noting that they were as prominent then as they were when they were burnt there. Dean swallowed thickly, dipping down and pressing his hand into the blackened grass, his eyes slipping closed. 

 

“It's okay, Cas,” Dean whispered. “I'm going to take care of it.”

 

No answer,  _ again.  _

 

It only served to piss him off, just like every other time he stopped by. Jerking up, he paced away, his blood boiling and singing for release. Not paying any attention, Dean whipped around to the closest object and struck out, his fist connecting with something solid and reverberating back satisfaction. 

 

Dean hit again, and again, and again until his hand locked up, and pain shot up his arm. Cursing, he flung his hand away from himself, wringing his wrist and turning back to glare at the object he'd been hitting like it was at fault. His blood rapidly dried against the bark of the tree as it slowly dripped down, as if mocking him. 

 

“This is all your fault,” Dean shouted, flinging his words at the pair of wings. 

 

As it was, there was no response. 

 

Anger drained away and Dean was left to clutch his injured hand to his chest as he walked back to Baby. He cranked her up awkwardly with his left hand and let his right sit limply in his lap, masochistically enjoying the painful throb. Dean drove for a bit before he finally pulled up to a stop sign and had enough time to call Rowena, shoving the phone to his ear. 

 

“Hello, dearie,” Rowena chirped. “How's the treasure hunt, hmm?” 

 

“Got the hair,” Dean replied, grunting as the turn he took caused his hand to slide roughly against his leg. “What next?”

 

“Why don't we grab another drink?” Rowena suggested lightly. 

 

“I'm starting to think you just want a drinking buddy,” Dean huffed, rolling his eyes when Rowena scoffed at his insinuation. 

 

“Dean Winchester,” Rowena muttered, clearly offended, “are you suggesting I'm lonely?” 

 

“If the shoe fits, Cinderella,” Dean shot back, smirking. 

 

“I do not discuss such matters of what to do  _ next _ over the phone. We need to meet, obviously. When will you be there?” Rowena explained slowly, as if he was an idiot. 

 

“I can be there tomorrow,” Dean said, squinting out the window as he passed a mile marker that told him he had a ways to go. “Probably early morning if I don't sleep any.”

 

“A time, Winchester.”

 

“Maybe four am. Maybe later if I get some shut eye.”

 

“I will see you at four-thirty, then,” Rowena said cheerfully, and the line went dead. 

 

Groaning, Dean pressed the gas harder. 

 

He was true to his word, however. The night whipped by slowly, and Baby flew across pavement smoothly. Dean didn't listen to music and rolled the windows all the way down, letting the air whip through the whole car. Out there, on the open road with no car in sight, Dean forgot everything, forgot that he was trying to kill a kid, forgot that he was working with a witch, forgot that his best friend was dead. It was just him, the night littered with stars, and Baby. 

 

Dean pulled into the bar parking lot at exactly four am. It was empty, but there was one light on in the building so he didn't hesitate to hop out and head to the front door. Peering in, Dean didn't see a soul in sight, but when he tried the door, it was unlocked. Mentally shrugging, he tucked his injured hand closer to his body and walked in. 

 

“About time,” Rowena announced from behind the bar, tutting as she poured whiskey into two glasses. 

 

“I'm early,” Dean huffed, heading over to the bar stool. 

 

“What happened to your hand?” Rowena asked as he gingerly sat it on the counter. 

 

“It's fine,” Dean said gruffly, an automatic response despite the fact that his hand was most definitely not fine, the swelling refusing to go down, and the purple and blue blotches blooming against the scratched skin. 

 

“Oh, I don't care about the state of your hand, dear,” Rowena chuckled, waving her hand at him as if he'd made a joke. “I'm just curious as to how it happened.”

 

“A tree pissed me off,” Dean explained and took the glass of whiskey when she offered it, taking a large gulp, grimacing around the burn. 

 

“Mm,” Rowena hummed, clearly waiting for more. 

 

“I thought you didn't want a drinking buddy?” Dean challenged, raising his eyebrows at her. 

 

“You know,” Rowena huffed, narrowing her eyes at him and leaning against the counter, waving her glass, “I always liked Sam better.”

 

“Tough break,” Dean retorted. “Sucks for him.”

 

“Oh, alright,” Rowena groaned as she straightened, cocking her hip before finishing off her whiskey in one go – which was impressive, not that Dean would ever tell her that. “You're absolutely no fun, are you? There is one last thing to get, but I doubt you'll manage it.” 

 

“Try me,” Dean said, spreading his hands. 

 

“You will have to get the grace of an angel,” Rowena told him and held up a finger before he could even try to speak. “Ah, ah, wait. The catch is that the grace has to be touched by the nephilim's power. Meaning you have to get the boy to attack an angel and leave a trace of  _ his  _ power before taking the angel’s.” 

 

“Shit,” Dean cursed, slamming his hand down on the counter, wincing when he realized a bit too late that it was his injured hand. 

 

“Mhm,” Rowena agreed pleasantly. 

 

“Is that it?” Dean barked at her, gritting his teeth around the new and improved throb that set up shop in his hand. 

 

“That is all. Besides my magic and my spell, of course,” Rowena answered, smiling widely at him. “Surely, that won't be a problem, will it?” 

 

“Yeah,” Dean hissed, glaring at her as he stood and stumbled towards the door, cradling his hand close. “No freaking problem at all. Be on standby.” 

 

“Of course, dear,” Rowena tittered, waving as he busted through the door and barreled to his car, internally berating himself for hitting that tree. 

 

“Freaking witches, freaking trees,” Dean spat as he started the car. “Freaking angels that can't keep their dicks in their pants. Freaking angels that enter your freaking life and become your freaking family and then freaking  _ die. _ ”

 

Baby rumbled in agreement, and Dean drove home miserably. 


	6. Chapter 6

Sam was, as to be expected,  _ livid  _ when Dean stomped back in the bunker later that day. The moment he descended the stairs, cradling his arm to himself, Sam was there, meeting him at the bottom with his arms crossed; his face twisted in fury. Dean waved mockingly with his good hand, flashing a sarcastic smile. 

 

“Dean, what the  _ fuck,  _ man?” Sam hissed, grinding his teeth. “You were gone for four days, you didn't answer your phone, and I had no idea whether you were alive or dead.” 

 

“Still alive,” Dean told him, trying to shove past Sam and not getting far. 

 

“You put your life in danger needlessly  _ again,  _ and I'm freaking tired of it,” Sam snapped, pushing Dean back and pointing a finger at him. 

 

“You had the kid,” Dean retorted. “What did you expect me to do?” 

 

“Oh, I don't know,” Sam hummed sarcastically, throwing his hands up. “How about wait? How about call for backup? Literally anything besides going on a hunt by yourself!” 

 

“Look,” Dean said, his tone hard and tight, allowing no argument, “there was a case. You were busy. I went. Get the fuck over it and realize that you're not my goddamn keeper.” 

 

Dean shoved past Sam roughly, nearly sending him into the wall, and stomped off towards his room. 

 

Truth be told, Dean was  _ tired.  _ He just wanted to sleep for a few hours and get his mind right. He knew he had to figure out exactly how he was going to get the last ingredient for Rowena's spell but first, he required at least four hours of rest. 

 

“Dean?” 

 

Dean froze in place and slowly turned around. The kid was coming out of his guest room, eyes wide with wonder and delight at Dean's return. Dean averted his eyes, his jaw clicking shut as the kid took a few steps towards him. 

 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

 

“I'm so glad you're okay,” Jack breathed out, suddenly rushing forward to grip him in a hug. 

 

Dean stiffened for all of maybe three seconds, his mind going completely blank with shock before pain shot up his arm, and his uninjured hand shot out, shoving the kid away, making him stumble. Dean cringed at the pounding of pain in his arm and glared at the kid. 

 

“Don't ever hug me again,” Dean bit out, squeezing his painless fist. 

 

“I- I just-” Jack faltered, his confusion blatantly clear as his gaze fixated on Dean's injured hand. “You're hurt, Dean.” 

 

“I'm fine,” Dean snapped back automatically, squaring his shoulders. 

 

“You're not,” Jack said, hovering closer and reaching out with an expression of concern. 

 

“Don't-” 

 

Before Dean could finish his sentence, the kid had already gripped his hurt hand, and a golden light filled the hallway as warmth spread all the way up Dean's arm. Dean gaped down at his hand, now free of all pain or any sign of injury, before looking up at the kid's pleased face, his eyes dimming back to hazel. 

 

“There,” Jack hummed happily. “ _ Now,  _ you're fine. All better.” 

 

“Don't you  _ ever  _ touch me again,” Dean spat, jabbing a finger at the kid. “Do you understand me? Never again.” 

 

“But,” Jack protested feebly, “I  _ helped  _ you.” 

 

“Don't come near me,” Dean said, his words curling in anger. “I mean it.” 

 

“I just want to help,” Jack whispered, his eyes dropping to the floor. 

 

“Stop,” Dean barked, slicing a hand through the air and making the kid look up with wide, watery eyes. “Just stop, okay? You're not- You can't help. You're not  _ capable _ of helping.” 

 

“I don't know what I'm capable of,” Jack murmured, swallowing thickly. 

 

“I know,” Dean told him. 

 

“I don't know what I  _ am, _ ” Jack croaked out, blinking rapidly and pressing his hands to his chest as if he could figure it out by touch. 

 

“Sam thinks you're worth saving, that you're something that can turn out good.” 

 

“You don't.” 

 

“No,” Dean agreed, nodding, “I don't.” 

 

“I don't want to be bad,” Jack pleaded, desperation flooding in his face as he reached out to Dean again before abruptly yanking back, clearly mindful of Dean's previous warnings. 

 

“You will be,” Dean replied, no pity in his voice, no care anywhere at all. “If it goes like I think it will, if you go bad, well… I'm gonna be the one to kill you.” 

 

The kid stood stock still, his shoulders drawn up tight, and the only movement he reflected was one deep swallow. Dean let the moment sit, let the words settle, and punctuated his promise by meeting the kid's gaze and holding it. Slowly, the kid gave a jerky nod of acceptance, of agreement, and Dean turned away. 

 

“Dean,” Jack called after him, his voice cracking.

 

“Yeah?” Dean shot back, pausing but not turning back around. 

 

“I'm sorry I exist.” 

 

“Me too, kid, me too.” 

 

* * *

 

After Dean got his four hours, he came up with a plan. It wasn't a sure thing, a maybe at best, but at least it was a plan. The only problem was going to be getting Sam to go along with it. 

 

“I found another case,” Dean announced, grabbing up his duffle and turning to Sam. 

 

“ _ Dean, _ ” Sam growled, standing up from the table and moving towards him. 

 

“I thought about what you said,” Dean interrupted, waving a hand and heaving a sigh, “and you're right.” 

 

“I- What? I am?” Sam blurted out, blinking rapidly and fumbling over his words. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, fighting against rolling his eyes. “Now's not the best time for me to be out and about, fucking around with fire.” 

 

“Good,” Sam said, breathing a sigh of relief that almost made Dean feel guilty.  _ Almost.  _ “So, are you going to call Jody?” 

 

“I was actually going to ask if you'd come with me,” Dean admitted, pursing his lips. “You've had your head up the kid's ass so much lately, you haven't done any hunting.” 

 

“I would,” Sam said, his eyebrows jerking up in surprise and immediate guilt, “but...Jack.” 

 

“Can't we just leave him here?” Dean snapped, already knowing the answer. 

 

"No, Dean, we can't,” Sam sighed. 

 

“You really gonna lug him along with us?” Dean griped, tossing the duffle over his shoulder. 

 

“If I go,” Sam said seriously, standing his ground firmly, “he goes.” 

 

“Fine,” Dean snapped, narrowing his eyes at Sam and gritting his teeth. “Bring the little shit. Fuck if I care. He's your responsibility, though. Don't expect me to look after him.” 

 

“Okay,” Sam replied simply, the start of a smile curling at the corners of his lips. 

 

“I'm getting the car ready,” Dean announced and left the room, rolling his eyes. 

 

Dean was just shutting the trunk when Sam and the kid entered the garage. Sam clapped him on the shoulder and grabbed his bag, waving him into the car. The kid went, his head bowed and his face set into blankness. 

 

“Dean,” Sam started as he shoved the bags roughly into the trunk when Dean opened it again, “why did you tell Jack that you were going to kill him when he inevitably went bad?”

 

“Because,” Dean said easily, slamming the trunk closed a final time, “I am.” 

 

“He's a messed up kid,” Sam told him, something shuttering off in his face at Dean's flippant response, something like shame. 

 

“I know,” Dean agreed, surprised that Sam was finally on the same page. 

 

“Yeah,” Sam muttered softly, turning disappointed eyes on him, “he's messed up because of  _ you _ .”

 

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out, nothing even entered his head. Sam shook his head and walked away, sliding in Baby and shutting the door with a soft click, which was somehow worse than if he'd slammed it. 

 

Dean stood still, rooted to the spot with thoughts of his father floating through his mind. By no means was Dean treating the kid as John had treated his sons, but what he was doing was no better, was worse even. 

 

Dean knew that he was clinging to the mission, to the inherent need for revenge, in the same way that John had for Mary. All for Cas. Except, the thing he was trying to kill was the thing Cas died  _ for. _

 

Dean scraped his nails against the top of the trunk and hung his head, his stomach rolling over itself. Not  _ for,  _ no. Because of. Dean had to remember that, had to remember he was going to kill the thing that caused Cas’ death. It was no different than his father,  _ he  _ was no different than his father. 

 

Fuck. 

 

And why? Why did it matter so much? Cas wasn't his husband, wasn't the father of his kids. It shouldn't be the same. Except, it was. Somehow, it was the exact same, and he didn't know what to do with that information, didn't know how to handle it or what it fully meant. 

 

Growling to himself, to his flaky thoughts, Dean shrugged it off. It didn't matter anyway. He knew what he had to do and nothing was going to stop him, not even his inner fear of turning out like the worst parts of his father. Shoving away from Baby's rear, he got in the car, ignored the thick silence, and drove off. 

 

* * *

 

“What’s the case?” Sam asked as they pulled up at the entrance of an old, unused mine. 

 

“Vamp nest,” Dean said, dipping his head to gaze out. “Should be simple. There's not that many in there from what my contact said.” 

 

“Your  _ contact? _ ” Sam blurted, turning to stare at Dean in surprise. “Who?” 

 

“Claire,” Dean mumbled, fighting embarrassment as Sam's eyebrows shot up. 

 

“Y'all talk?” Sam asked, clearly surprised. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean answered, pressing his lips together to let Sam know he was done with the conversation, no longer in the mood to talk about his relationship with Claire. 

 

Sam didn't say anything, and Dean refused to elaborate. Truth was, Dean had reached out to Claire to give her the news about Cas. He'd called and before he could get the full story out, Claire had hung up on him. 

 

About three hours later, she'd sent him an address and he'd shown up, still weary from all his nights in hell. 

 

They'd shared a meal and didn't speak, just sitting there and eating their greasy ass food in silence. It should've been weird but when they'd finished, Dean had reached out and tugged her into a tight hug without a word or thought. Claire had returned it, and they'd gone their separate ways, never bringing Cas up again. Yet, they texted frequently after that. 

 

“Jack,” Sam said, turning in his seat and giving the kid a kind smile, “we're going to be in there for a little bit but we'll be back, okay?” 

 

“You want me to stay in the car?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

Dean got out of the car and headed into the mine with Sam rushing to catch up. He untucked his machete and clicked on his flashlight as they entered silently. He heard the click of Sam’s flashlight turning on as he squinted in the darkness. It was eerily quiet, with no sound reaching them from the back at all. 

 

“Take the right and I’ll handle the left,” Dean murmured and ducked to the left side of the wall, dipping low and staring out in front of him as he went. 

 

There were just enough vampires that Claire was right to be wary to tackle on her own but not enough to send Dean's heart racing. He and Sam chopped them down methodically, and were out quickly with few bumps or bruises. Sam smiled at him as they stepped back out of the mine, and Dean averted his eyes, unwilling to look right at Sam while he did what he did next. 

 

_ ‘Hey, uh, angels’,  _ Dean thought, not entirely sure that anyone was going to pick up his broadcast. ‘ _ I got Lucifer’s kid here with me. Want him? Come and get him’. _

 

Sam opened his mouth to say something but slammed it shut when four figures abruptly stood in their path to the car. They didn't appear ready for a fight, and one of them went to speak. Dean couldn't let that happen. 

 

He didn't hesitate, diving at one of the angels and shoving Cas’ angel blade through her heart. Sam, however, hesitated and landed in the dirt as one angel shoved him back and another moved behind him. Dean immediately swirled around to come to his aid, throwing a glance at the kid. 

 

Jack was exiting the car, his face twisted in worry as one angel made his way towards him. Dean froze, hoping the kid would defend himself, needing that perfect moment. Sam gave a grunt as two angels descended on him, their blades raised high. 

 

“Sam!” Jack yelled, fear in his voice, and his arm snapped out, golden waves flowing through the air and making everything in its path go still. 

 

Sam was frozen in time, his face caught in worry, and the other three angels froze right along with him. Dean's head whipped around, noting the kids concentration and he didn't hesitate. Cutting down each angel until he reached the last one perched above Sam.

 

With his back to Jack, Dean took out a small vial, reached around and slit the angel’s throat, watching as his grace seeped out and dropped into the glass. Dean closed the vial, pocketed it, and shoved his blade through the angel’s throat, grunting at the resistance. 

 

“Alright, kid,” Dean called back, turning around to where Jack stood, his hand producing golden waves and his brow starting to sweat, “it's all good. Let ‘em go.”

 

The kid met Dean's gaze and lowered his hand, making all the angels drop to the ground. Sam jolted up, staring at the bodies in confusion. The kid sagged against the car, his face in his hands, as Dean shoved his hand in his pocket, letting his fingers run over the vial that held the last key ingredient. 

 

_ ‘Soon’.  _

 

“Dean,” Sam breathed out, still blinking in shock, “what the hell happened?” 

 

“The kid stopped time and I killed the angels while you stayed young for an extra minute,” Dean explained, stowing away Cas’ angel blade and moving to the car. 

 

“Jack!” Sam blurted, hopping to his feet and rushing over to the kid, reaching out to grip his hands and peel them from his face. 

 

Dean watched as Sam murmured to the kid, his words undoubtedly kind and soft, full of reassurances and promises he had no right to make. Rolling his eyes and scoffing to himself, Dean stomped over to Baby and slid in, slamming the door hard, only regretting it for a moment. When Sam and the kid still weren’t getting in, Dean laid on the horn. 

 

Once in the car, they stayed silent for the entire ride home. The kid had his head bowed every time Dean checked in the rearview mirror, and Sam stared out the window, his jaw clenched. It was tense, but Dean couldn't feel it, couldn't feel anything besides the vial in his pocket. 

 

As soon as they got home, Dean broke off from them and made his way to his room, digging out his phone from his pocket.

 

“Meet me at the bar tomorrow at five,” Dean barked as soon as the receiver clicked. 

 

“Well, hello to you too,” Rowena tsked. 

 

“Just be there,” Dean growled and hung up. 

 

Tossing his phone on the bed, Dean dug the vial of grace out of his pocket. He had seen angel grace plenty before but something was off about what was in the vial. It was almost brighter, and Dean perched on the edge of the bed, staring down at it. 

 

It felt so real, so close. A few murmured words from Rowena, a little bit of magic and all Dean had to do was make Jack a cup of coffee. He could pull the trigger before Sam would reach him. It could be over within a few days. 

 

Jack could be dead  _ tomorrow.  _

 

Obviously, Sam would be devastated and there would most likely be a lot of repercussions to deal with, but Dean didn't give a shit. He didn't care if Sam ignored him for a week. It didn't matter if he was going to have to live with the knowledge that he killed a kid. Dean just knew it had to be done. 

 

And it would be.  

 

* * *

 

“Hello, dearie,” Rowena greeted as Dean settled himself in the barstool. 

 

“Hey,” Dean replied, his hand curling around the vial in his pocket. 

 

“Well,” She hummed, her eyebrows shooting up, “aren't we in a good mood today? I assume you got what you needed.” 

 

“Told you,” Dean said, plopping the vial on the counter, keeping it in his grip. “No freaking problem at all. Easy as pie.” 

 

“I see,” Rowena murmured, leaning down to look into the vial. “Yes, I can work with this. Follow me, then.” 

 

Dean's eyebrows cranked up but he followed after Rowena, nodding at the surprisingly blank eyed bartender. He didn't seem to recognize Dean or care that he and Rowena were walking towards the back. Rowena ignored the  _ Employees Only  _ sign, and opened the door to a supply closet. 

 

“I would say buy me a drink first,” Dean teased and Rowena rolled her eyes, “but you already have. We're at that stage already, are we?” 

 

“Oh, just go in,” Rowena huffed, shaking her head. “I've got people to do, things to see.” 

 

“I don't think you've got that right,” Dean muttered as he entered the unreasonably roomy closet. “Or, maybe you do. I'm definitely not judging. Just sayin’.” 

 

Rowena didn't bother with a response, moving to stand behind a small stand that held a large bowl where she had already laid out the little ziplock bag containing the hair Dean had given her. Rowena held her hand out for the vial, her eyebrows raised high in challenge. 

 

Dean hesitated, something in his gut making him pause, something reminding him exactly what he was about to hand over. The angel grace was strong enough on its own but with the kid’s extra juice, Dean wasn't entirely sure if it was a good idea to be handing out something that powerful. 

 

“Oh, come on,” Rowena tutted, rolling her eyes, “don't be a wee baby, now. You've worked too hard to see it all go to waste because you have trust issues.”

 

“I don't have trust issues,” Dean snapped, thrusting the vial at her and narrowing his eyes in warning, “I just don't trust you.”

 

“Smart thing, that,” Rowena hummed, giving a gentle smile before gliding her hand over the bowl, her lips moving silently. 

 

Dean watched in silence as Rowena tipped the shimmering grace into the bowl slowly, closed her eyes and inhaled, her hands spreading as they circled the rim of the bowl. She chanted quietly before gaining volume, her words amassing more and more power, making the hairs on Dean’s neck stand up.

 

A spark ignited in the bowl, and Dean blinked in surprise. Rowena gave a full-body jerk, and she shoved her hand in the little bag, dropping the hair into the bowl. 

 

The bowl lit up as Rowena tossed her head back, her words sounding as if they were running over each other, and she shifted as tendrils of smoke floated from the bowl. And then, with a few final words, just like that, it was over. Rowena straightened and blinked a few times, her lips curling up at the corners. 

 

“Well?” Dean asked, staring at her warily. 

 

“It's ready,” Rowena murmured as she tipped the bowl in the empty vial, a simple blue liquid pouring into it. 

 

It could've been freaking Kool-Aid for all Dean knew. 

 

“That's the poison?” Dean asked, reaching out for it when she passed it over. 

 

“Mhm,” Rowena confirmed, nodding her head. “Slip it in something he eats, or even have him drink it, and he's human for a few moments.”

 

“So simple,” Dean muttered, staring down at the vial, his heart flipping in his chest at the thought of using it, of getting justice for Cas. 

 

“What do you say we have one last drink, dearie?” Rowena asked, her eyes soft upon his face, almost as if she detected his faulty emotions. 

 

“Can't hurt,” Dean croaked out, pocketing the vial and breathing easier once it was out of sight. “Let's get drunk.”

 

Rowena slid her arm into his and led him back to the bar, her hand dainty against his bicep. Dean stared at it and wondered why he was suddenly struggling to not have a panic attack. It was finally about to happen; he was about to kill Jack. He should've been relieved. 

 

Instead, Dean sat down with Rowena and drank whatever the bartender slid his way, his heart heavy and his mind racing with anything but relief.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie dokie, finally some Cas action! It only took six chapters, much like it took the sixth episode of season 13 to actually get Cas back with the boys ;) I wrote this before season 13 aired, btw.

Dean did what he always did when he was in a crisis. 

 

He got drunk. 

 

When three days had passed and the vial had never even been opened, and with the kid still smiling at him like the sun shined out his ass, Dean realized something was wrong. He had more than enough opportunities and yet, he never did it. Every time, Dean would finger the vial in his pocket and avert his eyes, telling himself it wasn't the right time. 

 

Dean quickly realized he was lying to himself. 

 

Not sure how to handle the situation and his apparent lack of strength to do the right thing, Dean lost himself in a bottle. There wasn't much that got him drunk anymore, but Dean was on a  _ mission.  _ Fortunately for him, the bunker was well stocked. 

 

So at about eleven o'clock that night, Dean was stumbling from his room, eyes bleary and his equilibrium taking a vacation. He made his way to the war room, his hand sliding against the wall as he blinked at the bottle still swinging from his fingertips. 

 

It no longer burned when he took a gulp, and he vaguely thought that was a bad sign. Dean wasn't sure what he'd been planning to do by leaving his room, but as soon as he entered the war room and caught sight of the kid, all of his previous thoughts flew away. 

 

“Dean?” Jack whispered, his head jerking up from a book. “What are you doing up?”

 

“Could say the same to you,” Dean slurred, his eyes narrowing. 

 

“I’m... um... reading. I don't really sleep all that much, being part angel and all. Dean, are you okay?” Jack murmured, setting his book down and standing. 

 

Abruptly, Dean burst out laughing, his head shaking widely back and forth. He clenched his eyes closed until black spots entered his vision and slowly opened them back up to the kid, taking in his obvious concern. Wasn't that just fucking ironic? The very reason he  _ wasn't  _ okay was asking if he was. 

 

Jesus, Dean hated everything. 

 

“M’fine, kid,” Dean mumbled, waving a hand hard enough that alcohol managed to slosh out onto his knuckles, despite how little was left in the bottle.

 

“Are you sure?” Jack began softly, “Because-”

 

“Actually, y’know what?” Dean cut him off, raising a hand and waving it through the air, only minutely pissed it was shaking. “I'm most certainly not fucking okay, kid. Wanna know what I am, hmm? I'm a fucking piece of shit, that's what.”

 

“That's not true,” Jack replied automatically, his lips dipping down in disapproval. “I think you are simply inebriated. Maybe I should go get Sam.” 

 

“No, no,” Dean sighed, flapping a hand flippantly, and moved over to plop down in a chair across from the awkwardly standing kid. “No point in that. Then Sam would just be mad, and I’d be in trouble, and honestly, I don't want to deal with it right now.”

 

“Okay,” Jack said simply, slowly sitting back down across from Dean, and cleared his throat, unsure where to put his hands. 

 

“Tell me something,” Dean prompted, swinging his legs up to prop them on the table as he stared at Jack through narrowed eyes, “why do you like me so much?”

 

“You're a hero,” Jack said, his eyebrows folding together, nearly making Dean flip out of his seat from his resemblance to Cas. 

 

“Sam tell you that?” Dean asked, swallowing thickly. 

 

“No,” Jack told him, frowning down at the table. “Sam says a lot of things about you, but depending on his mood, they can change. For example, he once said you were a major dick, but the very next day, he told me that you were a great man. It was quite confusing at first, but now I think I understand. But no, it wasn't him who told me that.”

 

“Then who?”

 

“My father.”

 

For a split second, Dean was baffled by the thought of Lucifer telling Jack he was a hero, and he took another gulp of the alcohol in his lap. But immediately after swallowing, Dean realized just who the kid was talking about. This time, the alcohol burned going down. 

 

“Cas,” Dean breathed out, his eyes slipping closed. 

 

“My father used to talk about you a lot before I was born. My mother didn't, but when she slept, Castiel would talk to me and tell me all about you. He missed you before- before everything happened,” Jack explained slowly, his words soft and fond. 

 

Dean jerked up, his heart ripping to life in his chest. Jack gazed at him with ridiculously large hazel eyes, his expression a perfect replica of Cas’ when he used to get confused by something. It fucking hurt to see it, hurt to acknowledge what the kid was saying. 

 

“Cas isn't your father,” Dean blurted out, his throat thick around the words. “He was never your father, never will be.”

 

“Sam explained,” Jack said shortly, turning his head and looking at the wall behind Dean’s shoulders. “It doesn't matter who says any different or what biology says, Castiel was my father. He wanted to protect me and my mother. He saved me. He's my father.”

 

“You wanna know the last thing Cas saw?” Dean asked, staring down at the bottled perched precariously in his lap. “Y’know, right before he died.” 

 

“Lucifer?” Jack guessed and swallowed when Dean stared at him blankly. “Sam told me who killed Castiel. I’m taking a guess.”

 

“No, Lucifer - you're actual father - stabbed Cas in the back. He, uh, stabbed him, and Cas went down like a sack of bricks, no warning whatsoever. The last thing he saw, before  _ you're father  _ killed him, was me.” 

 

Dean paused, his words slowly growing stronger as his anger started sobering him up, and drank another swallow to counteract that.

 

“Me. Last thing he saw was me. Isn't that, like, crazy? Some kind of poetic bullshit, right? He stared at me and then, just like that, he was dead. I didn't help him; I couldn't. Me and Sam? We, uh, we didn't know what to do, how to help. It wasn't- There was no way to save him. He was gone. Just like that. Just. Gone.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispered, the tears in his eyes falling when he blinked. 

 

The kid lifted a hand and caught a tear, staring at his hand in surprise. He was clearly stunned by them, clearly not understanding the fundamental need of them. 

 

Dean almost wanted to explain, but he reminded himself that the kid wasn't good, wasn't something worth wasting his breath on even more. 

 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Dean murmured, blinking up at the kid. 

 

“I- why?” Jack breathed out, fingers swiping away his tears. 

 

“I gotta,” Dean said simply. “It's gotta happen. You're a danger.”

 

“Because of Lucifer.”

 

“That, and because of you.”

 

Jack frowned, his eyes falling to the tabletop. Dean watched his indecisiveness, took note of the survivalist in him. No one truly wanted to die, not really, and Dean watched as Jack started realizing that. It didn't matter, though; Dean's mind was made up. 

 

“I'm not sure what I am, Dean,” Jack admitted cautiously, “but I know I’m not evil. I’ll prove it to you, somehow. I can help you.”

 

“I don't need help,” Dean chuckled weakly, digging the vial out of his pocket and holding it up for Jack to stare at. “See, I already know how to kill you.”

 

“Are you going to make me drink it?” Jack asked, his eyes never wavering from the poison, even when his voice cracked. “I will, if you want.”

 

“It won't hurt,” Dean murmured, swallowing as he stared up at it. “You'll be human for a few moments and within one second, I’ll pull a trigger, and you'll never feel a thing.”

 

“A humane death,” Jack noted carefully.

 

“Yeah,” Dean said. 

 

“Okay,” Jack whispered, blinking rapidly as tears started flowing from his eyes again. 

 

“Okay?” Dean repeated in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, okay,” Jack repeated, clearing his throat. “You have your gun. So just give it to me and get it over with then. Pass it over.”

 

He stretched out his hand and waited, fresh tears falling gently from his eyes. Dean gripped the vial and stared at the kid. He could. He could just hand it over, lift his gun, and shoot. It’d be over. Cas would be avenged, and the threat would be eliminated. 

 

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice sounding vaguely like his father yelled in agreement, egging him on. 

 

He could do it. 

 

Everything he'd been working up to led to that point, led to a victory either way. It was exactly what Dean had wanted, what he needed. Jack stared up at him with wide hazel eyes, red with tears, and Dean just couldn't let go of the fucking vial. 

 

Cas flashed in his mind and the voice sounding slightly like his father went silent, replaced by bright blue eyes and a small smile. Dean felt his chest break open, his own eyes prickling with tears as emotion gripped him. Fuck, he was so fucked. 

 

He couldn't do it. 

 

“I can't,” Dean whispered hoarsely. “I can't do it.”

 

Jack blinked at him, tilting his head, and Dean launched himself out of his chair, his stomach lurching at the sudden movement. Jack called after him, but Dean didn't stop. He shoved the vial in his pocket and rushed to his bed. 

 

Dean grabbed a pillow and covered his face, gripping it tight around his head to muffle the shouts he released. When he no longer felt like his chest was cracking apart, Dean relaxed his grip and let the pillow fall to the side. Blinking blearily at the ceiling, Dean realized he was drunk, sobbing, and ruining everything. 

 

He had to get back on track. 

 

So maybe he couldn't kill the kid right then, in his moment of weakness, but that didn't mean he couldn't work up to it. So yeah, he couldn't do it yet...

 

But he was going to. 

 

* * *

 

Dean expected to wake up to Sam beating the everloving shit out of him but instead, he woke to his head throbbing unforgivingly. Maybe Jack didn't tell Sam what had happened the previous night. Still, ass-beating or headache, Dean didn't see much of a difference between any of those wake-up calls, and it pissed him off either way. 

 

Dean cringed as he recalled the previous night. The image of his sobbing, screaming state was worse than the headache. Fuck, he'd really screwed up. 

 

He'd let out his secret about poisoning the kid  _ to  _ the kid and then, he hadn't even been able to follow through. Yeah, Dean was having another shitty morning. 

 

What was new?

 

Grumbling, Dean made his way into the kitchen, eyes finding his brother and the kid automatically. They always had their breakfast together and learned another common core lesson. Sam looked up when he entered but didn't appear to be pissed or in a righteous fury, so Dean guessed the kid had actually kept his mouth closed. 

 

“Morning, Dean,” Sam greeted, watching him get his coffee. “You look like shit.”

 

“Thanks,” Dean croaked out sarcastically, pinning a glare on Sam. 

 

“Just sayin’. So, what happened to you?”

 

“Got wasted.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

And that was that. 

 

Sam’s flash of pity was gone when he turned away, just as the kid looked up and met Dean's eyes. He wasn't sure what expression he was supposed to be giving or receiving, and felt as if he was missing something. The kid crooked a smile at him, and Dean frowned back, shaking his head slightly. 

 

_ ‘No, I don't fucking like you, kid’.  _

 

Hurt flashed across his face, and Dean watched as the kid realized that nothing about the previous night had changed Dean's opinion on him. The smile fell and the kid dropped his gaze, turning his attention back to the paper before him. Dean turned around and stalked out of the kitchen with plans to look for another case. 

 

Anything to get the fuck away, to escape. 

 

He ended up in his room, on his bed, a book in his lap he wasn't even reading, staring down blearily as he questioned his life choices. Fuck, he desperately missed Cas. 

 

* * *

 

“Dean,” Jack said softly, gently knocking on the door frame and clearing his throat. 

 

“What?” Dean asked curtly, not even glancing up from the book in his lap. 

 

“I know you don't like me,” Jack murmured, stepping farther in the room. “I'm not sure I understand why you don't exactly, but Sam says it's because you're grieving.” 

 

“Sam doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about,” Dean snapped, finally looking up to glare at the kid. 

 

“Is this about Castiel?” Jack asked, head tilting in an all too familiar way. 

 

“Kid,” Dean muttered through clenched teeth, his fists balling in his lap, “ _ get the fuck out. _ ”

 

“But-” Jack protested feebly, curling into himself. 

 

“Just go!” Dean burst out, flapping a hand at him and turning away, sitting up so his back was turned to the door. 

 

“I-  _ No. _ ” Jack said forcefully, drawing up straight as Dean whipped around to stare up at him. 

 

“What?” Dean breathed, slowly standing and turning to walk over towards Jack, adrenaline and anger coursing through him. 

 

“I want to help you, Dean,” Jack insisted. 

 

“You've done  _ enough, _ ” Dean spat, crossing his arms and standing firm. “Now, get out.” 

 

“I haven't done anything, though,” Jack argued, sighing. “But I can. Let me help.” 

 

“ _ No. _ ” 

 

The kid frowned, eyebrows crinkling in displeasure. And  _ fuck,  _ Dean had been privy to that look many times before from Cas. How in the hell was Satan this kid's dad? If Dean didn't know any better, he would think that the kid was Cas’. But he did know better and that somehow made it even worse. 

 

Sighing, Dean dropped his arms and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was so exhausting hating something that reminded him of family. Exhausting, but not impossible. 

 

“Dean,” Jack murmured gently, inching closer and attempting to catch his eye. 

 

“No,” Dean cut him off, using his free hand to point at the door. “Just go.” 

 

“You miss him so much,” Jack breathed out. 

 

Dean glanced up, suddenly realizing how close the kid was. He had just enough time to register glowing golden eyes and fingers brushing his temple before he fell backwards into darkness. 

 

* * *

 

Dean jerked awake, gasping in a gulp of air as he jolted straight up. He blinked rapidly, eyes shifting around in confusion. There was... _ nothing.  _ It was just dark, empty nothingness. Dean slowly stood up, staring down at the darkness his boots were planted on. 

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean went very still. 

 

It was a dream, just a stupid fucking dream. Jack must’ve forced him to sleep and shoved him into some dream world. Gritting his teeth, Dean slowly turned around. 

 

Despite knowing that it was a dream, Dean still felt all the air in his lungs escape him at once. Cas looked just as he always did, tousled hair, trench coat, and a look of faint confusion. Blue eyes squinted at him, and even though it was a dream, Dean felt his chest swell with fondness. 

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean whispered, just staring. 

 

“Where are we? What’s going on, Dean?” Cas asked, suddenly walking towards Dean while his head swiveled so he could look at all the darkness around them. 

 

“I know this isn’t real, so you can cut the crap, man,” Dean sighed wearily. 

 

“Dean, where are we?” Cas said firmly, eyes narrowing in frustration. “Did Lucifer get Jack? Is Kelly okay? Was Crowley’s sacrifice enough?  _ Dean, what happened? _ ”

 

“What?” Dean muttered, staring at Cas in confusion. “This is just a dream, right? You’re not- This isn't real. You can stop pretending.” 

 

“Pretending?” Cas parroted back. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean snapped, nostrils flaring as Cas tilted his head. 

 

_ Not Cas.  _

 

Before Not-Cas could reply, a yawn ripped through both of them, and Dean felt his eyelids grow heavy. Not-Cas looked over at him in panic as they traded yet another yawn. Dean had no idea why he was abruptly sleepier than he had ever been in his entire life, but he was sure he needed a nap  _ right then.  _ He couldn't fight the exhaustion tugging at him, pulling him under. 

 

Dean closed his eyes on Not-Cas and went to sleep. 

 

* * *

 

Dean’s eyes opened to Jack. The kid was leaning over him with a look of serenity, a peaceful smile on his lips. Dean immediately sat up, shoving him back and pinning a glare on him. His expression of bliss bled into shock and he swallowed thickly, confusion obvious on his face. 

 

“What,” Dean bit out, “did you  _ do? _ ” 

 

“I gave you a moment with Castiel,” Jack said gently. “You missed him and it was clear you needed to see him. I- I just wanted to help.”

 

“No, you put me in some fake ass fucking dream to- to what? You tryin’ to taunt me or some shit? I don't need some fake Cas to  _ help  _ me,” Dean snapped, his mouth twisting. 

 

“Fake?” Jack muttered. “No, no, that  _ was _ Castiel, not a fake copy of him. I promise you, Dean, that was him.” 

 

“No, Cas is dead,” Dean countered, pointing at him. 

 

“Yes, but I allowed you to visit him.”

 

“No, that’s- that’s impossible.”

 

“So am I,” Jack said, shrugging. 

 

Dean stared at him. The kid was clearly serious, which meant that was truly Cas. The whole idea of it hit him like a ton of bricks. 

 

He hadn’t even believed it was him and hadn’t even spoken with him like he wished he could. Cas was in some dark fucking place, alone and confused, and the only thing Dean had to say to him was that he wasn't fucking real. Fuck, the last thing Dean said was  _ ‘yeah’.  _ He dropped back onto the bed and let his head fall forward in his hands. 

 

Fucking  _ ‘yeah’. _

 

Dean was beginning to hate that word. 

 

“I have to go back,” Dean croaked out, abruptly looking up to stare at Jack. “You have to send me back. Right now.”

 

“It's not that simple, Dean,” Jack mumbled apologetically. 

 

“Why the fuck not?” Dean growled out, an ache starting up between his ribs. 

 

“It is a very draining process,” Jack said warily. 

 

“I don't care,” Dean snapped. “Do it. I can handle that.”

 

“Okay, but-”

 

“I don't fucking care, just send me back!”

 

The kid didn't even respond before sending Dean falling back into the dark. 

 

* * *

 

“Cas!”

 

Dean scrambled up and whirled around. Cas was staring around in confusion yet again, his eyes suddenly snapping to land on Dean. He opened his mouth, maybe to greet him, maybe not, but Dean didn't even care. 

 

Dean rushed forward, slamming into Cas and curling him in close, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Cas slowly returned the hug. 

 

“Um, Dean?” Cas asked cautiously. 

 

“I missed you, man,” Dean admitted, closing his eyes and breathing heavily against Cas’ shoulder. “You have no fucking idea.”

 

“Yes,” Cas agreed. “I’m not sure I have all the details. For example, how can you miss me when I just saw you a mere second ago?” 

 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Dean asked, peeling away from Cas and clapping his shoulder. 

 

“Well, we came back from the rift, and then you and I were here and you said I wasn't real. Now, you are hugging me and talking of missing me,” Cas explained. 

 

“Cas, Lucifer stabbed you,” Dean managed around a lump in his throat. 

 

“I’m dead,” Cas realized rather calmly. 

 

“I- Yeah,” Dean said, his voice cracking. 

 

“Dean,” Cas murmured gently, “is Jack alright?”

 

“He is. He’s here with me and Sam at the bunker. He’s like nineteen.”

 

“Is he- He’s happy?”

 

“As happy as he can be here,” Dean muttered, averting his eyes. 

 

“You are protecting him, right?” 

 

Dean refused to look, was unable to. Protecting the kid? Yeah, that was a hard no from Dean. He was trying to fucking kill him, not keep him alive. Dean wasn't sure how to tell Cas that he was at the top of his hit-list, especially when Cas was looking at him oh so hopefully. 

 

“Dean!” Cas said harshly, reaching out to grip his shoulder. “You  _ have  _ to protect him. I know that wasn't the original plan, but trust me. You have to trust me.”

 

“I can't,” Dean croaked weakly. 

 

“You can. You have to,” Cas insisted seriously. 

 

“I  _ can't, _ ” Dean repeated a bit more forcefully. 

 

“Dean, I know Lucifer is his father, and he most likely has unimaginable power, but he is  _ not _ evil,” Cas said strongly, no uncertainty. “Many things out there will attempt to obtain that power and turn it evil. You cannot let that happen, Dean. I should be there, I know that, and I wish I was, but I am not. So you have to protect him; do you understand me?” 

 

“ _ I can't! _ ” Dean shouted, shoving away from Cas and jabbing a finger at him through bleary eyes, suddenly unable to swallow properly. “You fucking  _ died,  _ Cas! You’re gone, and it's his fucking fault. He is evil, alright? It's his fault. He took you from me! So no,  _ I fucking can't. _ I would sooner see him dead then save him!”

 

Cas stared at him in blatant surprise for a few moments. Clearly, Cas had not expected that response, but Dean couldn't help it. He sucked in a sharp breath, clenched his jaw, and tried to get his mind to stop racing. Cas just stared, eyes sad, something pitiful in his gaze. 

 

“Dean,” Cas whispered, his gravelly voice scraping as it cracked on his name, “that is  _ not  _ Jack's fault. Lucifer killed me.” 

 

“But he killed you because of him,” Dean shot back, his lips trembling with all the anger and ruthless insults he wanted to spill. “The kid got in your head, man. He made you think he could save this fucking shit hole of a world and save humanity, but he  _ can't.  _ Cas, you died because of him, for him, for  _ nothing. _ ”

 

“Never for nothing,” Cas countered, shaking his head slightly. “I died for something important. What I saw, Dean, it was- it was everything you could ever hope for. It's what you deserve.” 

 

“I don't want it,” Dean said, reaching up to scrub his hand down his face. “It's not worth it. Never was. Not at the cost of you.” 

 

“Dean, I'm sorry,” Cas whispered, looking down at his shoes in shame. “I wish I could be there, I really do, but I can't.” 

 

“There has to be a way to-” 

 

“No, absolutely not. No one is to bring me back at the cost of themselves. Do you understand me, Dean? No deals, no trades, nothing. Maybe I can come back on my own, but no one will risk themselves just for me.” 

 

“I can research and- and look,” Dean said quickly, scrambling with sudden urgency. “Cas, I need you to come back, man.” 

 

“Dean,” Cas murmured. 

 

“No, you- you don't freaking understand, okay? I  _ can't  _ do this without you. Not anymore. This kid, he's so much like you, it's ridiculous. He acts like you, man. He even thought you were his dad. And- and... I  _ hate  _ him. I want him dead, do you understand? Not only is he the freaking child of Lucifer and super powerful, but he's the reason you're here. So you've got to come back,” Dean rambled, reaching out to grip Cas’ shoulders tightly. 

 

“Dean,” Cas repeated, his tone softer.

 

“You have to because the truth is, he's not that bad and you're more of a dad to him, apparently, than Lucifer, and you’re  _ dead. _ He doesn't even really no how to use his powers, and Sam freaking adores him. So what do I got left, huh? What's left, besides the fact that if it wasn't for him, you'd be alive? That's it, Cas, and I still fucking  _ hate  _ him and the whole situation and you and me and I- I-” 

 

Dean's words choked off. Cas abruptly reached out and yanked him into a tight hug. Dean curled into it, shoving his face into Cas’ neck, breathing in the smell of sparks and something metallic and clean. It's Cas. He's here, and Dean couldn't force himself away if he even wanted to, which he didn't. 

 

“It's okay, Dean,” Cas comforted him, a lie if Dean had ever heard one. 

 

“No,” Dean croaked, his words muffled into Cas’ neck, “it isn't okay, Cas.  _ I'm  _ not okay.”

 

“I'm here,” Cas murmured, his words splintered by an abrupt yawn. 

 

“No,” Dean mumbled, the warmth from Cas’ embrace oh so comfortable as his eyes fluttered closed, “you're not.” 

 

Cas might've replied but Dean didn't hear because the next thing he knew, he was waking up to Jack peering down at him in worry. Dean groaned and attempted to sit up, a sharp pain forcing him back to the bed. 

 

“Dean,” Jack said cautiously, “are you alright?” 

 

“I wanna go back,” Dean muttered, his vision swimming as he swiped out to try and grab the kid. “Put me back. Take me back.” 

 

“Dean, I can't. You won't be able to handle it right now. You need rest,” Jack replied. 

 

“Just let me go back,” Dean breathed out, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please.” 

 

Dean was out before the kid could reply.


	8. Chapter 8

As soon as Dean was able to move, he was up and making his way to the kid's room. He didn't hesitate, his boots clomping through the halls of the bunker, a sound of determination. Dean wasn't sure how long he slept or even what time of the day it was, but he didn't give a shit. He was shoving his way into the kid's room without a pause for thought. 

 

“Dean?” Sam blurted, surprise clear on his face as he put down the pencil he was holding.

 

“I need to borrow the kid for a bit,” Dean announced, staring right at Jack. 

 

“What?” Sam asked, standing up. “Why?” 

 

“I'm taking him for a ride,” Dean answered, looking at Sam with an eyebrow cocked. “Is that okay with you,  _ mother? _ ” 

 

“Depends,” Sam retorted sarcastically. “Where are you going? Can I come?” 

 

“Away and no,” Dean said shortly. “Come on, kid, we're going. Get a move on.” 

 

Jack stood up, and Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. Sighing, Dean waved Jack out of the room, holding his hands out in surrender towards Sam. Clearly not buying Dean's sudden change of heart, Sam arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms. 

 

“Well?” Sam prompted. 

 

“Alright, maybe you were right,” Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. “As much as it pains me to admit, and it's a lot, you were right about the kid not being so bad, okay? I'm taking him for a ride to get some pie or ice cream or something. I think I owe him that much.” 

 

“He  _ is  _ a good kid, Dean,” Sam insisted, eyes wide with hope. “Just be careful out there. I'm sure the angels are still out looking for him.” 

 

“I got him covered,” Dean said flippantly, waving his hand as he headed out the room. 

 

“We're getting ice cream?” Jack asked as he rounded the corner, his smile ridiculously wide.

 

“Maybe later,” Dean huffed. “We have shit to do.” 

 

Jack opened his mouth, but Dean just dragged him along, taking him to Baby and getting in. Jack was quiet as they pulled away and on the road, turning off his music. Silence washed through the car and Dean kept his eyes peeled for any random fields. 

 

“Dean,” Jack broke the silence, the name sounding uncertain, “did you mean what you said to Sam? I mean, about you thinking that I'm not so bad after all.” 

 

“I know you're not evil, not really,” Dean told him honestly. “But I still think it's going to end bad. You might not be a bad kid, per say, but what you're capable of is, and that makes you worth something to bad people and bad things. So, yeah, you're not so bad, but nothing changes in the end of it all.” 

 

“I can choose to be good, though,” Jack argued, a crinkle forming between his eyebrows. “Sam said just because we are supposed to be evil doesn't mean we have to be.” 

 

“Alright, scenario time,” Dean said casually, clapping his hands on the wheel as he leaned forward to keep looking for a field. “Something bad has Sam and is going to kill him if you don't do what they want. So, does Sam die or do you do the bad thing? Choose, since it's so easy.” 

 

“I could just save Sam,” Jack suggested. 

 

“Not an option, unfortunately. So, which is it? Gonna let the big bad kill the only person who cares about you, or are you going to do that terrible thing that will have massive consequences in the future?” 

 

“Which would you do?” 

 

Dean knew  _ exactly _ what he would do, and he wasn't exactly proud of it. 

 

“Not a question for me, kid. I have a point to prove,” Dean said, waving Jack's question off. 

 

“Those can't be my only options. That's not fair,” Jack mumbled, frustrated. 

 

“Life isn't fair,” Dean told him, turning the wheel onto a dirt path leading to a field. “But you see what I mean. You can't choose, obviously.” 

 

“Or, I could just kill myself,” Jack said excitedly, smiling with pride as he assumed that he beat Dean at his own game. “Then my powers would be of no use to the bad thing and the whole situation would be obsolete. The bad thing would be upset, and Sam would have time enough to get away. Problem solved.” 

 

“Yeah, but we're back to the whole point that I've been making,” Dean pointed out as he parked Baby and shut her off. “You would be dead. That was the only option.” 

 

“Oh,” Jack mumbled, sitting back in the seat as realization washed over him. 

 

Dean almost felt bad for the kid. Jack looked as if someone had just slapped him in the face, and Dean knew he was the one who put that look there. It was a cruel thought, but Dean knew he wasn't wrong. 

 

The thing was, it wasn't fair to pin that on him. Dean, Sam, and even Cas had been in those same exact situations. In fact, Cas had become a liability when Naomi had mind-whammied him. But Dean wasn't about to tell Jack that.  _ Hell no.  _

 

“Chin up, kid,” Dean sighed, reaching out to tap his arm. “You might learn how to be a regular boy, who knows. Maybe we can hide you away or something. I don't think so, but don't count it out, okay? You can't help your situation.” 

 

“So, does this mean that you like me now?” Jack asked, peering at him hopefully. 

 

“Woah, slow down, buckaroo. I never said I liked you,” Dean said and gave an awkward chuckle, making Jack's face fall. 

 

“I know that Sam just wishes to use me to get your mom back. Maybe he does really like me, but he only does because he thinks he was bad once,” Jack mumbled.

 

“He was,” Dean coughed out, not particularly fond of the memories. 

 

“Really?” Jack blurted out, obviously shocked. 

 

“Yeah, I know,” Dean laughed. “Sammy's got a heart of gold. Kinda hard to imagine him as ever being  _ bad _ but, uh, he was. Like you, it wasn't exactly his fault. Fate had him set that way, you know? He was supposed to be.” 

 

“So, what did you guys do about it?” Jack asked, leaning forward in interest. 

 

“His fate?” Dean hummed, pursing his lips to the side. “Oh, we changed it.” 

 

“And I can't change mine?” 

 

Dean froze, going silent as he realized what corner he'd just backed himself into. The kid wasn't wrong. If he and Sam changed their whole purpose in life to be light versus dark, then why couldn't the kid be good instead of a tool for his father? 

 

Dean didn't want to think about it. 

 

“I need to see Cas again,” Dean said, abruptly changing the subject. 

 

“Dean, I don't think that's a good idea,” Jack told him warily, frowning. 

 

“I don't care what you  _ think,  _ kid. I promise you, I can handle it, alright? Just- Put me back.”

 

“Dean-” 

 

“Jack,” Dean cut him off, sensing his refusal yet again, “please? It's important.” 

 

Jack hesitated but eventually reached out and touched Dean's temple. The last thing Dean saw, before he was suddenly falling into darkness, was Jack's golden eyes glowing.

 

* * *

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean slowly got up, feeling heavy and a bit too full, as if he'd ate too much food. Cas stared at him in concern, moving forward to grip his arm and scan him for any obvious injuries. Warmth blossomed in Dean's chest, and he smiled slightly, taking a second to watch Cas as he looked for signs of harm. 

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted, bringing his free hand up to crawl around Cas and tug him into his arms. “Sorry it took so long. Are you okay?”

 

“Long?” Cas murmured, his breath drifting past Dean's ear. “Dean, you were just here. I fell asleep and woke up to you again.”

 

“So, you don't notice my absence?” Dean asked, hooking his chin on Cas’ shoulder and sagging comfortably into the embrace. 

 

“No,” Cas replied quietly, his arms finally coming up to return the hold. 

 

Dean didn't say anything, choosing to bask in the moment instead. He wasn't sure when he was going to be able to come back when he left again, and he wanted to appreciate Cas’ presence while he could. Somewhere in the back of his mind, warning bells started going off, but Dean ignored them in favor of letting his left temple rest against Cas’ right. 

 

Dean realized they were standing there, _just holding each other,_ and it was lasting a lot longer than a friendly hug ever should. It should've been weird, but it wasn't. It was just calming, feeling important in a way that made Dean think it was necessary. They needed it, needed the solid touch as a reminder that they were here, that they were together. 

 

_ Dean  _ needed it. 

 

“I’m sorry about last time,” Dean mumbled, embarrassed as he recalled the little freak out he'd had. “I was just- Things have been- It's just been hard, is all.” 

 

“It's quite alright, Dean,” Cas sighed, linking his fingers together behind Dean's back and pressing closer. “I understand. When I’d assumed you were dead, with the soul-bomb to kill Amara, I was not  _ well. _ ”

 

Abruptly, embarrassment flooded through Dean as he realized  _ exactly  _ what they were doing and tugged away from Cas, ignoring the regret he felt when the solid weight of Cas against him was gone. 

 

Cas didn't protest, didn't outwardly react at all, didn't seem to even care one way or another. Hell, he probably didn't. Cas didn't need the hug, didn't need the comfort or the touch, since he wasn't the one who lost someone. 

 

“We need to figure out how to get you back,” Dean stated, frowning as he glanced around at the surrounding darkness. “Where are we, Cas?”

 

“I’m not sure, exactly,” Cas admitted. “It's sentient, though.”

 

“What is?” Dean balked, eyes bulging. “This dark shit? You tellin’ me that it's  _ alive? _ ” 

 

“It is,” Cas answered solemnly. “And it is very old.”

 

“Older than you old?” 

 

“Older than me, yes.”

 

“Damn.”

 

“Yes, that is precisely the right word.”

 

“Fuck,” Dean breathed out, chuckling as he turned his eyes back on Cas, something light and joyous flooding through him. “I've missed you, Cas, so much.”

 

“I forget that, to you, I am dead and gone for long periods of time.”  Cas said, briefly dipping his head in dejection before perking up and steering the conversation to something else. “How is Jack and Sam? Have you reconsidered about Jack?”

 

“Look,” Dean groaned, rolling his eyes, “he’s not a bad kid, okay? I know that, I do, but he's very powerful. If something happens, someone is going to have to handle it. I'm just being prepared.”

 

“No, your grief for me has clouded your judgement,” Cas growled, narrowing his eyes on Dean, always holding him accountable. “If I was there, you would not wish to kill him.”

 

“You wouldn't  _ let  _ me if you were, but you're not.”

 

“And who is at fault for that?”

 

“ _ Jack! _ ” Dean burst out, throwing his hands up. “The fucking kid is the reason you're not there to save him in the first place.”

 

“No,” Cas said strongly, allowing no rebuttals. “Lucifer killed me, Dean.”

 

“ _ Because  _ of-”

 

“No! Lucifer killed me.”

 

“Because...” Dean started, edging closer to Cas, pleading with him to understand. 

 

“Dean,” Cas cut him off, reaching out to grab Dean's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze, “Jack did  _ not  _ put an angel blade through my back. Jack did  _ not  _ kill me. Not only did he not kill me, but he also allows us to meet. He is offering solace for you, despite how you act towards him, which is not fair.”  

 

Dean averted his gaze when Cas only held him tighter as he tried to turn his head away. It didn't feel right, looking at Cas and  _ knowing  _ he was right but refusing to listen. Lucifer was gone, and Dean couldn't find him to obsess over killing him. Tragically, Jack was the only scapegoat left. 

 

Someone was responsible this time, and they were gonna fucking die. 

 

“I should be here,” Dean mumbled, his voice cracking because fuck, _ he wanted to be.  _

 

“No, that is survivor's guilt, Dean,” Cas huffed, his hand relaxing slightly but not dropping from his chin. “I would not want to trade your life for mine.”

 

That was not  _ at all _ what Dean meant, but he didn't correct him. 

 

“If I could, Cas, I would,” Dean promised honestly. “In a heartbeat.”

 

Cas’ face softened and his fingers went slack, slowly crawling up his cheek. Dean marveled at the feeling for all of two seconds before closing his eyes and turning his face into Cas’ hand. Something splintered in his chest and Dean struggled to stay upright, his breath rattling out of him as Cas’ fingers stroked across his cheek. Cas released a little sigh, something Dean had never heard from him before, a gentle and sweet sound.

 

“I know, Dean,” Cas murmured sadly. “I know.”

 

Dean didn't dare to speak, keeping his eyes closed so he didn't have to watch. It was one thing to appreciate your best friend’s presence, but it was another entirely to  _ need  _ it. 

 

As much as he wanted Cas to drop his hand, Dean craved the touch, his skin singing at the contact.  _ ‘Cas is alive, Cas is here, Cas is touching me’!  _ A whimper crawled up his throat, and Dean rapidly swallowed it, flicking his eyes open and staring at Cas. 

 

Cas had always been handsome,  _ always,  _ but this was different. Standing there, face morphed into awe and pure love, Dean hadn't ever seen something so divine. He wore a look that Dean thought would be reserved for God himself, something so adoring, so reverent. Dean didn't know how to face that, wasn't sure how to handle it, because it was directed fully on him.

 

He couldn't breathe.  

 

“I miss you so fucking  _ much. _ ” Dean gasped out brokenly, reaching up to lay his hand over the hand cradling his cheek. “Please come back to me.” 

 

“I want to,” Cas assured him, swallowing thickly. “Please know that.” 

 

Dean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He could feel an exhaustion creeping through him, making him tired. Cas’ fingers brushed against his as he smoothed his hand over Dean's cheek. It felt a whole lot nicer than it had any right to, and Dean let his hand move down Cas’ wrist, crawling to his elbow. 

 

He wanted to say something, wanted to cut through the moment so he could breathe properly. But he wasn't able to force himself to stop or interrupt it, recognizing an important moment when he saw one. 

 

That was how Dean fell asleep, falling in love with the way Cas’ fingers smoothed over his cheek.

 

* * *

 

“You were crying.” 

 

The silence in the Impala - which only lasted for about ten minutes before the kid couldn’t help himself anymore - was broken with great hesitance. Dean sighed heavily, shifting in the seat and doing his best to ignore the ache in all of his joints. 

 

“I'm fine,” Dean said shortly. 

 

“I know,” Jack replied. “They were good tears. Good but sad. Were they for Castiel?” 

 

“It's nothing you need to concern yourself with, kid,” Dean muttered, starting the car and pressing his foot on the gas. 

 

“I haven't visited him,” Jack admitted, sounding ashamed of that fact. 

 

Dean was struck with a sudden wave of possessiveness. He didn't want anyone else to see Cas, didn't want to share him. 

 

As Dean started to tell the kid Cas wouldn't want to see him, he glanced over and saw the uncertainty raging on his face. Dean swallowed and thought about Cas, sighing internally. 

 

“I think Cas would like to see you,” Dean muttered, fighting against something that felt a whole lot like jealousy, which was stupid. 

 

“I- I don't know,” Jack stuttered, turning to stare out the window. “I don't think I can.” 

 

“I could, uh, pass along a message, if you'd like me to,” Dean offered. 

 

“I can't keep sending you there, Dean,” Jack said seriously. “It isn't good for you.” 

 

“I told you I can handle it, kid.” 

 

“Dean, it is bad. I can feel it. Sending you there is- it's not good.” 

 

“Jack,” Dean said gently, far more gently than he'd ever been with him, “Cas- He needs me, okay? He's all alone there, in nothingness. I need to-  _ we  _ need to help him.” 

 

There was silence for a moment. 

 

“You're letting me help?” Jack asked, his voice small and hopeful. 

 

For a brief second in time, Dean felt guilty. Because Dean knew for a fact that he'd said those same words to his father before. Misguided, he'd assumed that protecting Sam with his life was  _ helping.  _ He'd been honored and took the mission to heart, never quite knowing how, or when, to stop. 

 

And for that, for using the kid, Dean felt like shit. It only lasted for a few seconds as he remembered the feel of Cas’ hand stroking his face, before it was gone. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, “I'm letting you help.” 


	9. Chapter 9

Since returning to the bunker, the kid had been up Dean's ass nonstop. He wanted to help with absolutely  _ everything _ and while it drove him nuts, Dean slowly started hating it less. There was something ridiculously endearing about him walking into the room and being shadowed as if he was important. That hadn't happened since Sam got old enough to realize he despised hunting. 

 

Sam watched the strange new duo in something akin to suspicion. It was never pointed at the kid, though. Always Dean. Like he was some corruption that somehow wiggled his way under the kid's skin. Dean told himself he wasn't, and did his best to simultaneously keep the kid in his corner and out of his space. 

 

Jack was a force to be reckoned with, however. 

 

He refused to send Dean back to Cas for at least another week, so Dean immediately started research. He threw himself into it with even more vigor than when he'd been searching for a way to kill the kid. Sam took notice, but there wasn't shit he could say, seeing as he still didn't know Dean  _ could  _ kill the kid, and Jack clearly refused to tell him. 

 

Research in itself was a bitch and doing it alone was worse, but getting Sam involved would do more damage than good. The kid, though...he could read, and Sam had taught him all the ridiculous benefits of cross-referencing, so Dean put him to work, shoving books at him and demanding notes. Jack was ecstatic. 

 

When Sam had finally gotten fed up and stomped in, demanding to know what the hell they were doing, the kid had looked up with dopiest grin and stated that he was  _ helping.  _

 

Dean had just looked at Sam, arching his eyebrows, and Sam had pursed his lips before making an abrupt exit. Dean suspected Sam had a bit of jealousy mixed in to his relief. 

 

There was no answers to be found about where Cas was stashed away, and Dean was beside himself with worry that maybe there was nothing he could do to get him back. 

 

The closest he'd come to finding something was right before it was about time for him to return to Cas, and he'd followed that little line of hope right to the end, a desperate curl of  _ ‘please, oh God, please be it’,  _ that turned out to be referencing Purgatory of all places. 

 

When he'd thrown the book across the room and started cussing up a storm, the kid had just stared at him with wide eyes, not saying a word. Dean had eventually calmed down, but that was enough for him. He couldn't take another dead end. He'd waved the kid off to his room, and they had gone their separate ways. 

 

Dean woke up the next morning feeling like tingles were running up and down his legs, but he dubbed it as excitement because he was about to see Cas again. He hummed as he entered the kitchen, throwing a grin at Sam, before heading to cabinet and pulling his favorite coffee mug down, the one with the little bees on it, and pouring himself a cup. 

 

“You're awfully chipper this morning,” Sam noted, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

 

“Just a new day, Sammy,” Dean shot back, winking playfully and shrugging. 

 

“Did you go to a bar or something last night? Pick up somebody?” Sam teased, his curiosity bleeding through as he leaned forward. 

 

Dean paused with the coffee mug halfway to his mouth, his mood abruptly souring. It was stupid for it to swing so rapidly because for one, Sam had to know he hadn’t left last night. For two, it was just a question, just a little tease from his brother who had been holding off on teasing Dean since Cas. Yet, it sent his mood dropping from where it had been soaring, like a tear in a little kid's kite. 

 

“No,” Dean snapped. “I didn't get laid.” 

 

Sam made a face, his eyes widening as he mouthed Dean's words back to him, clearly an attempt at mocking. It fell flat as Dean glared at Sam, his annoyance palpable. Sam rolled his eyes and turned away from Dean. 

 

“Maybe you  _ need _ to get laid,” Sam muttered, suddenly fixated on the plate of fruit in front of him. 

 

“What?” Dean bit out, narrowing his eyes as Sam turned around with a sigh. 

 

“I'm just saying, dude,” Sam huffed. “You haven't done anything for yourself since... well, since Cas passed. Maybe you need-” 

 

“No,” Dean interrupted sharply. “I don't  _ need  _ anything. I especially don't need to get laid. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would I just- That's wrong on so many levels!” 

 

“Wrong?” Sam parroted, baffled. “How is it wrong for you to go out and have sex? Since when has that  _ ever _ been wrong to you?” 

 

“Since Cas fucking  _ died, _ ” Dean spat, gripping the counter harshly and slamming his coffee mug -  _ Cas’ _ coffee mug - on the counter. 

 

“Dean,” Sam said softly, his words slow and careful like treading on thin ice, “I'm sure Cas wouldn't care if you went on with your life and actually went out and had fun.” 

 

“That's not- It's fucked up, okay? I can't- I dunno, I just can't, alright?” Dean blurted. 

 

“So, what, you're just not going to have sex again or take pleasure in anything in anyway for the rest of your life?” Sam deadpanned. 

 

“It's not about  _ not _ taking pleasure, Sam! It's about the  _ sex, _ ” Dean growled, his words flying from his mouth before he could evaluate them. “I'm not defacing his memory like that!” 

 

Immediately after the sentence was out, Dean wanted to eat it back up. His lips curled in as he dropped his head, feeling as if the floor had just disappeared and he was falling into some kind of pit. A pit of knowledge that he'd never thought about digging up before, but now it was too late. 

 

Anger and denial pressed into him, sharp like knife. Dean lashed out, lifting his mug - Cas’ mug - and launched it through the air with vigor. It shattered against the wall and fell to the counter in pieces. Dean stared at the broken shards blankly, all emotion seeping out of him at once. 

 

Slowly, he walked over and gathered the pieces carelessly, moving to toss them into the trash. He stared down at them, sitting in the trash, gone forever, his world crumbling as he shut the lid, enclosing Cas’ favorite mug in darkness. Such a big metaphor that was ripping Dean to shreds, making it hard to breathe. 

 

Sam took a deep breath, like maybe he was preparing himself for a long speech, and Dean raised a hand, making him pause. 

 

“Dean…” Sam muttered after Dean just stood there, his hand help out and shaking. 

 

“No,” Dean said, and he left the kitchen to escape more than just the residual tension. 

 

Sam didn't call after him, and Dean was thankful for that. He escaped to his room, sucking in sharp breaths, and carefully sat on his bed, his head falling into his hands. What the fuck was that? Why did he say that? Why was it true? 

 

What did it _ mean? _

 

Groaning, Dean flopped backwards on his bed, dropping his hands and staring up at the ceiling. He was losing his fucking mind, that much was clear. Maybe he did need to go out and get laid just to prove that it wasn't like that, that he didn't mean what he'd said. 

 

The thought of sex with some stranger made his stomach recoil on itself. His lips drifting over some no-name’s skin, tasting a different story upon their every blemish or scar. It made him feel sick. Used to, that was the kinda shit that had Dean lacing up his boots and heading out with a bounce in his step. But suddenly, he couldn't do it, didn't  _ want  _ to and apparently it was because of Cas. 

 

He'd basically said so, hadn't he? 

 

Because, being with someone was going to screw up Cas’ memory exactly how? Dean didn't know, couldn't figure out what the hell he'd even meant. Maybe he was just getting old. Maybe it didn't even mean anything. 

 

Not that it mattered anyway, because Cas was dead. 

 

Groaning, Dean got up and made his way to the bathroom, needing to shower and distract himself from his own fucked up thoughts. He made up his bed before he went, and as soon as the hot water from the showerhead beat down against his naked back, Dean let out a sigh of relief. Steam filled the bathroom, and he let himself relax into it. 

 

It was as his hands crawled down his chest that his mind took the inevitable turn back to what he'd been thinking about earlier. Dean bit his lip and looked down, fingers twitching at the impulse. Maybe he  _ should  _ take some pleasure for himself. It shouldn't have shit to do with Cas. 

 

Bracing his left arm against the wall, Dean let his right slip down and close around his dick. His eyes slipped closed as he took it slowly, just immersing himself in the feeling of his fingers sliding back and forth. It wasn't desperate or pointed in any direction, just something he was indulging in, something he was fucking allowed, dammit. 

 

His breath hitched slightly when he twisted his wrist, his fingers squeezing tighter and making him bite his lip again. It felt good, really good, in fact, and Dean could feel his mind begin to wander, could tell his thoughts were slipping from his control and going in whatever direction they chose. He sped up and squeezed his eyes closed, not wanting to acknowledge what his mind was attempting to present to him. 

 

“ _ Fuck, _ ” He moaned, pressing his forehead into the crook of his arm and rocking his hips. 

 

He was close, close enough that he thought he could avoid whatever his mind was trying to badger him with. Dean gave a little gasp when he tightened his hand around the base, putting just the right amount of pressure. 

 

It was good,  _ so good,  _ and Dean lost himself in it. A flimsy image formed in his mind’s eye, and Dean's hips stuttered as he forced his hand to speed up, his heart thumping unevenly in his chest as the image slowly became clearer. 

 

_ “ _ Shit,  _ C- _ ” 

 

Dean slammed his mouth shut and rode his orgasm out in silence. When it was over, he watched the water swirl down the drain and tried to tell himself what just happened wasn't what he thought it was. 

 

But it was. 

 

Dean dropped his dick like it was scalding and stepped back into the water, letting his eyes drop closed. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him? He did  _ not  _ just get off to a watered down image of his best friend. It hadn't been Cas, but it was damn near it, so close to it that Dean had almost said- well. That was just wrong. Fuck, it was so messed up.  _ Dean  _ was so messed up. 

 

Feeling dirty, Dean scrubbed himself roughly until his skin was bright red. He wasn't stupid by any means, but he knew something was wrong. Cas’ death was really starting to fuck with him, and he sure as hell was taking it harder than he should've.

 

Except, was he? 

 

Because he felt like his insides were scraped out every morning he woke up and remembered that Cas was gone. But that was normal. It should've never happened, and Dean had already lost too many people, even his mom for a second time. 

 

It just wasn't fair. So yeah, Dean was taking it hard,  _ still.  _ And clearly, it was fucking with him in all aspects of his life. That must've been normal too. 

 

Probably.

 

* * *

 

Dean avoided visiting Cas for a couple of days after his freak out in the shower. Instead, he and Sam picked up a case that seemed like it was going to a whole helluva lot easier than it was. But then again, that was their life. After returning home with sores and bruises, Dean wanted nothing more than to just see Cas and talk to him. 

 

“Yo, Jack,” Dean yelled out, sticking his head out of his room and waiting for Jack to hurtle around the corner and halt in his tracks, “how’s Sammy?”

 

“Fine,” Jack said easily. “I healed him. Would you like me to do that for you as well?”

 

“Not in the slightest,” Dean huffed, jerking his head to motion Jack in the room and walking over to stand by his bed, groaning from the strain. 

 

“Are you sure you don't want me to-”

 

Jack cut himself off as Dean tugged his gun from where it was tucked away in his belt. He held it in his hand for a moment as he grabbed for his phone with his free hand. 

 

Dean waited, focusing on the phone in his hand, and when Jack didn't move, he glanced up. The kid was frozen, his eyes locked onto something on the bed, never wavering. Confused, Dean glanced behind him and blinked rapidly at the vial leaning up against his pillow. 

 

Dean had forgotten about it. 

 

“You're going to kill me,” Jack stated flatly, his voice dead, completely drained of all emotion and child-like sweetness. “Of course, you are. You never even- how could I be so stupid?”

 

“Jack,” Dean said softly, setting his phone and gun to the side and standing up, holding his hands out in warning, “I’m not going to-”

 

“LIAR!” Jack bellowed, his eyes turning golden.

 

“Jack! Stop it, and calm the fuck down!” Dean shouted, shoving his hands out and glaring at the kid sternly. 

 

All fight deflated from Jack; he looked down, heart obviously breaking. Dean watched as tears dropped onto his carpet. He stepped back, grabbing up the vial and walking over to Jack. Dean heard the voice, so like his father, scream at him to stop, to put it down and kill the kid right then, but he ignored it. Swallowing, he offered it to Jack.

 

“Why?” Jack whispered, lifting his head, staring at him. “Why do you hate me so much? Castiel  _ promised  _ me that you would help me, that you would protect me. Why aren't you?”

 

“Listen to me, kid,” Dean muttered gruffly, dropping his hand and letting the vial fall to the floor, dipping his head to hold Jack’s gaze, “I don't hate you, alright? I know I’ve been treating you like shit, and I'm  _ sorry,  _ okay? I'm sorry that you have to deal with all my crazy shit right now, but something was taken from me and I am not sure who the thief is. You get me?”

 

“Castiel,” Jack murmured, swallowing thickly. “Is it my fault that he's not here? Dean, tell me! Am I the reason that Castiel is dead?”

 

“I thought so,” Dean admitted and reached out, grasping Jack’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze when Jack started crying again, “but I was wrong. It's not anymore your fault than it is his. Lucifer did this, not you, not me, not anybody but him. Cas wanted to protect you because he believed you are good, and he died trying. Now it's your job to make sure it wasn't in vain, you understand me?”

 

“So you  _ don't  _ want to kill me?”

 

“Not anymore, no. But if I have to…”

 

“I understand.”

 

Jack swallowed thickly, and Dean just stared at the kid. The moment engulfed him, making it hard to breathe, and Dean realized he was starting to care for Jack. 

 

Somehow, Dean had started to live up to what Cas expected of him and at that thought alone, Dean was overwhelmed with emotion. Without hesitation, Dean yanked the kid by his shoulder and grabbed him in a tight hug, clapping his shoulder. Jack went stiff in surprise but eventually hugged back. 

 

“Please don't make me have to,” Dean whispered in his ear, squeezing him tight before pulling back, holding him by the shoulders and staring at him seriously. 

 

“I won't,” Jack promised. 

 

Dean took a deep breath, dropping his hands and cleared his throat, doing his best to ignore the moment. He scooped up the vial and walked over to his dresser, slipping it in the top drawer. Once it was put away, hopefully for forever, Dean turned to Jack and clapped his hands together, smiling widely. 

 

“Say, isn't it about time for me to go visit Cas?”

 

“It is. But you are injured from-”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Dean assured him quickly. 

 

Taking a deep breath, Jack moved closer to Dean, a frown on his lips. Dean almost felt bad for making the kid worry, but the thought of seeing Cas again had him ignoring it. Despite feeling like shit from the hunt, Dean knew he had to see Cas. 

 

“This can't happen forever,” Jack reminded him softly, fingers hovering over his temple. 

 

“I know,” Dean said, nodding. 

 

“Whatever we're doing to save Castiel, we have to do it soon.”

 

“Sure thing, kid.” 

 

Jack didn't reply. He frowned at Dean again, stern and resembling Cas so much it hurt. Dean closed his eyes and released a relieved sigh when he felt fingers tap his temple that sent him falling back into darkness.

 

* * *

 

It was always startling to see Cas again. 

 

Though his body was encased in darkness, he was still Cas. Dean could feel the overwhelming urge to wrap Cas in a tight hug; he didn't fight it, throwing his body forward and holding Cas firmly. 

 

Cas eased into it, clearly used to Dean's strange bursts of affection, and hugged him back. Dean wondered why he'd waited so long to come back this time.  

 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, his words breathing against Dean's ear. 

 

“Dude, I’ve missed you,” Dean muttered, shuffling back and clearing his throat. 

 

“How long has it been this time?” Cas asked with a deep sigh. 

 

“Couple a’ weeks. Not too long.”

 

“Oh, okay.”

 

Cas nodded and heaved a sigh, regret on his face. Dean realized how it must’ve felt for Cas, how he missed so much time. There wasn't enough time in the dark abyss for Dean to explain everything Cas hadn't been present for. 

 

“Sam cut his hair,” Dean blurted out and Cas jerked his head up. “About two weeks ago. He, um, just trimmed an inch. It's already grown back out and longer. He said something about  _ dead ends,  _ like I know what that means...”

 

“I like Sam’s hair long,” Cas commented. 

 

“Right. Well, that's all that’s new in the hair department. Um, Sam made me eat something healthy about a week ago. I dunno what kale is going to do for me after all the bacon I’ve ever had, but Sam is determined.”

 

“Kale is good for your body, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, well, it tastes like shit. Let’s see, what else? Uh, we all went on a hunt about four days ago. Thought it would be easy. It wasn't. We’re fine, though, so no worries.”

 

“Did Jack join you and Sam?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said and cleared his throat, “he was there. He, uh, didn't do anything, but he came with us. Sam insists that he's not to be left alone.”

 

“How is he?” Cas asked curiously. “Is he...happy?”

 

“Happy as he can be for an alien learning math,” Dean sighed, shrugging shamelessly when Cas frowned at him.

 

It was a whole lot harder to admit to maybe liking the kid when Cas stood in front of him. It felt like failure, felt like he was doing Cas wrong by not still being in a rage towards Jack. Cas obviously didn't think so, but Dean couldn't change his own mind. 

 

“Sam is teaching him math?” Cas murmured, ignoring Dean's rude words. 

 

“Yeah, he is, the nerd,” Dean huffed out, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Tell him thank you from me, will you?” Cas said, eyes wide and soft, and Dean tried not to be strangled by the lump that formed in his throat. 

 

“He, uh, probably already knows that, Cas,” Dean choked out. 

 

Cas smiled at him, genuine and kind, and Dean felt something in his chest splinter open. Dean stepped close to Cas and peered at him, eyes flickering over his face, determined to commit his expression to memory. 

 

He had to do that now. When he left, Dean wouldn't get to see Cas every day, wouldn't get to talk to him, wouldn't get to reach out and touch him casually. 

 

All he had back home was a pair of scorched wings, a brother who cared too much, and a kid who acted so much like Cas it hurt. So Dean cherished every moment he got with Cas, even if he didn't know how to fill it, or what to do while he was there. 

 

There was a sense of detachment from it, though. On Earth, Dean wouldn't just reach out and cradle his cheek, staring at him so softly, but now, there was nothing stopping him. He did it then, his fingers smoothing over Cas’ stubbly cheek slowly. Cas didn't react too much, just slipping his eyes closed as he released a small sigh. 

 

“I don't even know I'm gone,” Cas told him. “Yet, I miss you. I miss all of you.”

 

“Fuck,” Dean said weakly, tightening his fingers and tugging Cas in close, letting his face press into the top of Cas’ head. “I miss you so goddamn much, man.”

 

“I feel like I'm losing you, like I'm losing everything,” Cas whispered into his shoulder. 

 

“It's going to be okay, Cas. I'm not going anywhere,” Dean promised. 

 

Cas didn't say anything, just reached up to wrap his arms around Dean and hold on tight. Dean let it happen, bringing his free arm up to curl around Cas. It was an embrace of comfort, something special forming in the moment. Dean closed his eyes, not willing to stare at the darkness and realize that Cas wasn't back home where he belonged. 

 

When Dean opened his eyes again, Cas was gone from his arms, and he was back home, all alone. 


	10. Chapter 10

Dean was sick. 

 

It was a rare occurrence amongst the Winchesters, but it was bound to happen occasionally. The reason it was such a big deal was because Dean hadn't ever been sick like  _ this  _ before. 

 

“I think you have the flu,” Sam said apologetically, wincing when Dean let loose another round of rattling coughs. “I'm gonna go out and get some juice and soup.”

 

“Don't have the flu, Sammy,” Dean croaked out, taking a deep breath and cringing when it wheezed in his chest. “Just a- It's a cold, is all.”

 

“Yeah, it’s definitely the flu,” Sam told him, half amused and half worried. 

 

“Get Jack,” Dean mumbled, eyes drooping. 

 

“Okay,” Sam agreed. “I’ll be back in a few.”

 

Dean shifted on the bed, his arms shaking as he tried to push himself up. There was no point because his strength gave out far too soon and was left in an awkward position with throbbing muscles. Everything hurt, like an ache that flowed through him with no end in sight. Aches, coughing, fatigue; maybe it  _ was  _ the flu. Fuck that, Dean needed to kick it. 

 

“Dean, are you alright?” Jack asked as he entered the room. “Sam says you're sick.”

 

“I'll be fine, kid,” Dean told him, throwing his weight to the right so he could turn towards Jack with a smile. “Matter of fact, I was gonna ask, if you're willing… Would you heal me?” 

 

“But you don't like it when I heal any of your injuries,” Jack stated, eyebrows raising. 

 

Shit, Sam was starting to have an effect on the kid, clearly. 

 

“Yeah, those are injuries; this is a sickness. I don't need to be benched because of a fucking cough, man. Can you help me out?”

 

“Of course.” 

 

Jack reached out and laid a hand on Dean's chest, palm flat as his eyes drifted closed. Dean waited for the pain to go away, waited to feel better, while watching the look of concentration on Jack's face. When he didn't and Jack pulled away, concern flitting over his expression, Dean started getting worried. 

 

“Well?” Dean asked. 

 

“I can't,” Jack said apologetically. 

 

“What? I thought you said you can do the healing stuff? You told Sam it was easier to use your powers for that because it felt good.” 

 

“Yes, I can heal. It  _ is  _ easier.” 

 

“So you just don't wanna heal me, then?” Dean huffed, offended. 

 

“No, Dean,” Jack replied urgently, a look of stress covering his face, “I  _ can't _ heal you. As in, my powers aren't doing anything to the sickness. This is not normal sickness, Dean. It is from the place you go to see Cas. I  _ told  _ you that you couldn't handle going back there so often.” 

 

“What?” Dean barked, blinking in confusion. 

 

“I  _ said- _ ” 

 

“No, I heard you. Jesus, you're so much like…” Dean trailed off, clearing his throat, and averted his eyes. 

 

_ ‘Not now’. _

 

“Dean, I am worried it is affecting you more than you're saying,” Jack said seriously. 

 

“No, listen to me, kid,” Dean assured him quickly, meeting his eyes again. “I'm human, alright? I'm bound to get sick every now and again. This isn't something to worry about.” 

 

“Why can't I heal you, then?” Jack challenged, arching an eyebrow. 

 

Jesus, the kid was spending  _ way  _ too much time with Sam. 

 

“That may be my fault,” Dean suggested, pausing to let loose a fit of coughs that Jack winced at. “I've told you too many times I don't want you to heal me. You're just being respectful. It's fine.” 

 

“Dean…” Jack said warily, frowning as Dean lifted a hand and weakly waved it. 

 

“Forget I asked,” Dean told him easily, offering a tiny smile. “Besides, Sam's gone out to get me some stuff. I'll handle it just like everyone else in the world.” 

 

“Maybe you shouldn't go back,” Jack murmured and looked down at his fingers in obvious shame. “I do not think it would be a good idea.” 

 

“Hey, don't be like that. Cas needs us right now, okay? He was asking about you, y'know? He's not exactly happy about being dead,” Dean explained. 

 

“I don't think Castiel would be upset if you didn't return, especially if it was better that you didn't,” Jack replied, his wariness obvious. 

 

“Look, I can't explain it to you, kid, but I  _ need  _ this,” Dean croaked, desperation clouding his mind. “Trust me when I say it's better if I do go back to him.” 

 

Dean knew he sounded weak, knew he was begging, but it didn't matter. Hell, Dean knew the sickness wasn't normal, could feel it like a cloud in his mind. It was darker, affecting his mind as well as his body. 

 

However, Dean was sure he could handle it, could fall as far as he needed to, just to spend whatever time he could with Cas. 

 

Jack opened his mouth, maybe to argue, but snapped it shut when Sam knocked on the door and entered the room. Dean raised his eyebrows at Jack, a question waiting in his expression, and Jack gave a deep sigh before nodding slightly. At that, Dean relaxed and looked over to Sam, eyebrows jerking up. 

 

Sam held a tray with a bowl and cup placed precariously on top, his free hand gripping a bag appearing to hold a lot of medicine bottles. Sam's expression was reflecting his prediction of having to fight Dean on helping, face crumbled into something soft yet determined. 

 

“You'll feel better,” Sam said unapologetically.

 

“I’m no bitch,” Dean rattled off automatically, wrinkling his nose as Sam drew closer. 

 

“No,” Sam agreed mildly, rolling his eyes, “but you will feel like one when green shit is coming out of your ears. Just lemme help, dude.”

 

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, reaching out to Jack for help on sitting up. 

 

Not used to Dean’s touch, Jack fumbled for a moment, before leaning over to help. Once settled, Sam sat the soup on his lap and shook out a few pills into his palm. With minor grumbling, Dean knocked them back and started in on his soup, resigned to his fate. 

 

“Hey, Jack,” Sam hummed casually, “don't you have homework?” 

 

“Oh,” Jack mumbled, eyes widening in surprise, “I do! I'll be back. Feel better, Dean.” 

 

“Mhm,” Dean managed to garble out around the spoon in his mouth, watching as the kid darted from the room. 

 

“Dean,” Sam murmured, still overly casual, moving over to sit on the bed beside Dean and brace his elbows on his knees. 

 

“What did I do?” Dean sighed, sitting the spoon in the bowl and preparing himself for whatever Sam was about to hit him with. 

 

That was usually how Sam did things. He waited until Dean was at his most vulnerable, or at least until he was too injured to move, or in a really long car ride, and then he  _ struck.  _ Which was bullshit when Dean really thought about it, but Sam was a force to be reckoned with when he had something he wanted to know, or something he wanted to talk about. 

 

“Nothing,” Sam said easily, turning to pin Dean down with a frown. “At least, I don't think you've done anything. I just- I dunno. I've got this feeling, like something's up with you. Is there anything you want to tell me, Dean?” 

 

Dean froze and dropped his gaze, a thousand thoughts tumbling through his mind. Suddenly, with Sam's wide, soft, and  _ understanding  _ gaze watching him, Dean wanted to tell him absolutely everything. He wanted to let all of it go, let Sam share all the weight that constantly pressed against his chest. 

 

It would be easy, too. He could do it; he could explain how Jack was trying to help him by allowing him to see Cas, could tell him how much it hurt to be alive when Cas wasn't, could be honest and mention the poison he'd helped create to kill Jack, could just let out everything he held within himself, and let Sam fucking help him. He  _ could,  _ but he didn't. 

 

“No,” Dean whispered, blinking rapidly at the blue blanket he was under. “There's nothing.” 

 

“Okay,” Sam replied softly, heaving a sigh as he got up. “Keep taking those meds and you should be fine in a couple of days.” 

 

“Sammy,” Dean called out, his words faltering when Sam turned around wearing a peaceful expression. 

 

“Yeah?” Sam asked. 

 

Dean swallowed, thought about all the shit Sam was already dealing with, and said quietly, “Thanks.” 

 

Sam pressed his lips together, his eyes showing the smile he fought, and nodded. Dean watched him leave and let out a long breath, sinking farther under the covers and setting aside the tray. He managed to slowly turn on his side, eyes staring at the picture on his dresser. It was him, Sam, and Cas, their arms thrown over each other's shoulders. The smiles there were so real, so genuine, and Dean realized he hadn't seen those smiles on any of those faces since Cas died. 

 

Blinking around traitorous tears, Dean realized it was true what people said about someone dying and taking pieces of the people they left behind. When Cas died, he took their smiles, their joy, their peace amongst all things, even the end of the world. 

 

He took their light. 

 

It was snuffed out now, Dean supposed. Cas was in a place where darkness was the only thing that existed. Maybe, Dean thought as he slowly drifted to sleep, they all lost each other, and in turn, lost themselves. 

 

* * *

 

Dean wasn't sure why he even went to the bar.

 

Maybe it was because he'd gotten over his sickness and Jack was still making him wait to visit Cas again. Maybe it was because hunts had calmed down and he felt he had nothing better to do. Maybe - and this felt like the truth - it was because he missed Cas something awful and the bar was on the way to the pair of wings Dean found himself driving towards before he could stop himself.

 

Either way, Dean quickly realized the bar was a mistake. The moment the bartender looked at him and his eyes glazed over, his phone making an appearance, Dean knew something was up. When Rowena walked through the door mere moments later, Dean closed his eyes and hung his head, everything clicking together as one big mistake. 

 

_ ‘Fuck’ _ .

 

“Jason just texted me the absolutely funniest thing, Dean,” Rowena said as a way of greeting, sliding into the seat next to him with a predatory smile. “Take a wild guess as to what that message was.”

 

“You're still fucking with his mind, even after Crowley is gone?” Dean asked, disgusted. 

 

“Mm, you never burn a bridge before it’s necessary, dear. You still have a lot to learn, I see,” Rowena noted pleasantly, eyeing the bartender - Jason, Dean realized - in amusement as he robotically passed her a glass of whiskey. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Dean muttered, heaving a deep sigh. 

 

“I could ask you the same, Winchester,” Rowena tutted, taking a delicate sip. “Of all the bars in this godforsaken country and you chose this one?”

 

“I wanted a drink and I like the place,” Dean defended himself, frowning at her. “Even if I don't like the company.” 

 

“I think, subconsciously, you wanted a drinking partner again,” Rowena suggested lightly. 

 

“That's not-”

 

“It’s quite alright, dearie. No shame in it.”

 

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, turning to the zombified bartender and raising his hand up, shaking his head as the man immediately started fixing his drink. “I am not drunk enough for this.”

 

“For what?” Rowena asked, blinking innocently at him. “Did you ever manage to kill the angel offspring, or no?”

 

“I’m… I didn't,” Dean muttered, swallowing as he realized he’d been so keen on that a while back. “I couldn't. He’s just a kid.”

 

“Oh, I knew you wouldn't, of course. You’re a nurturer at heart. Clearly, you want to protect things smaller than you.”

 

Dean eyed her pointedly and raised his eyebrows. 

 

“Well,” Rowena sighed, rolling her eyes. “Obviously, I’m the exception.”

 

“Obviously,” Dean agreed sarcastically. 

 

“So, Winchester, do you want to get sloshed with this young witch or not?” Rowena proposed, waving her fingers at the bartender and watching Dean with bright eyes as the shot glasses were lined up. 

 

Who was Dean to say no to that?


	11. Chapter 11

Dean stumbled into the bunker and nearly fell head over feet down the stairs. He grabbed the railing just in time, managing to maneuver his swaying body down the steps. He was attempting to be quiet, but he didn't think he was doing such a good job at it. 

 

He and Rowena had drunk for hours, and it hit Dean when it was far too late that there was no possible way to drink a witch under the table. She was barely buzzing, whereas he couldn't see straight. Maybe that was probably why he allowed her to use some freaky spell to have Baby drive him home without any guidance. 

 

It was a long ride that Dean spent curled up in the backseat, singing Bon Jovi at the top of his lungs until Baby’s radio abruptly shut off. When he'd nearly puked against her perfect upholstery, her window rolled down by itself and she swerved until his head was hanging out the window. Dean knew she was sentient and took the time to tell her how much he loved her, and though there was no response, the seats felt warmer afterwards. 

 

Now, as he trampled through the bunker’s war room, Dean didn't have any help. 

 

His room felt so far away as he slid against the wall leading to the hallway, which would eventually lead him to his bedroom. He considered just slumping over where he was, Jack and Sam be damned, but he was just lucid enough to be aware that he’d feel better waking up in his bed. 

 

As he entered the hallway, leaning precariously to the side, he heard a voice. Dean slowly blinked and stared at the kid as he poked his head out his room, watching him in concern. Dean straightened up the best he could and leaned harder on the wall. 

 

“Dean, are you okay?” Jack asked gently. 

 

“I’d really like to see Cas now,” Dean slurred, his eyelids drooping before popping back open as Jack stepped out into the hallway. “S’okay, Jack. I wanna see Cas.”

 

“You're inebriated again,” Jack stated in understanding and nodded, walking forward to swing Dean’s arm over his shoulder, taking some of his weight. “Let’s get you to bed.”

 

“M’really sorry ‘bout this, Jack. Should never let you see me like this, like my dad,” Dean mumbled miserably. 

 

“I don't mind helping you, Dean,” Jack told him sincerely. 

 

“You're a good kid, real good. Besides, I’d never hurt you. Can't, because it’s wrong. You don't hurt kids,” Dean explained, slumping against the wall opposite to his door as Jack opened it.

 

“I take it your father wasn't aware of that concept,” Jack guessed, a frown curling on his face as he took Dean back and helped him into his room. 

 

“No,” Dean answered sadly, “he wasn't.”

 

“Well,” Jack said, grunting as he dropped Dean onto the bed, “you're a better man.”

 

At that, Dean found himself fighting not to cry. Everything was so jumbled up in his head and his heart ached. Jack peered down at him softly, no pity in his expression anywhere. Dean didn't understand what he was feeling, but he knew one thing for sure. 

 

“I wanna see Cas,” Dean whispered, reaching out to grasp Jack’s wrist loosely. “Will you lemme see him? Please, Jack?”

 

“I am not sure it’s a good idea,” Jack whispered. 

 

“Jack,  _ please? _ ” Dean begged, staring up with a pleading expression. 

 

Biting his lip and looking as if he already regretted it, Jack leaned over him and touched his forehead, sending him spiraling into darkness. Dean blinked in surprise when Jack was no longer standing over him, and he stared up into the darkness for a few moments. 

 

Out of nowhere, Cas’ head came into view as he peered down at Dean in curiosity. A smile bloomed on Dean’s face, and he rushed to get up, vertigo making him tumble to the side. Cas’ quick hands caught him, and Dean clutched at him, eyes wide with wonder. Cas frowned at him, their faces mere inches apart, and let out a long breath. 

 

“Dean, are you inebriated?” Cas asked accusingly. 

 

“You caught me,” Dean whispered, awe-struck, completely ignoring Cas’ question. “That’s amazing, and you're just holding me up now. Wow, you're strong.”

 

“Well,” Cas muttered dryly, rolling his eyes, “that answers my question.”

 

“You're so pretty,” Dean told Cas, smiling widely and reaching up to cradle Cas’ face, running his fingers over the stubble there.

 

“Alright,” Cas sighed, grunting as he hauled Dean up and got him on his feet, keeping him steady until he was good to stand on his own. “There you go. Okay, there you are. Now, care to tell me why you're drunk?”

 

“I missed you,” Dean answered honestly.

 

“You can't just drown your sorrows in a bottle, Dean,” Cas croaked out, his face crumbling into something sad and broken. 

 

“No, no,  _ no, _ ” Dean whispered urgently, surging forward and gripping Cas’ shoulders, getting right into his face. “Don't be sad. It makes me sad, and I don't wanna be sad anymore, not here with you.” 

 

“Okay,” Cas sighed, forcing a smile. 

 

“Good,” Dean said in approval, bobbing his head and swaying even closer. “There it is. I like your smile. You're pretty.” 

 

Dean knew he was going a little overboard, but all common sense had flown out the window after the thirteenth glass of Absinthe. He wasn't lying, Cas  _ was  _ pretty, but he had an inkling that wasn't something he usually said. However, something miraculous happened; the smile turned genuine and even more breathtaking. 

 

“Thank you, Dean, and you're severely inebriated,” Cas said gently, amusement lighting up his blue eyes. 

 

He didn't appear to be bothered by Dean's antics or his proximity, so Dean inched closer, letting his hands reach across the short distance to grip the lapels of his trench coat. Cas didn't even react, not seeming to care how close Dean got to him. 

 

Dean felt free to do whatever he wanted, and there was no loud alarm in his head to stop him from leaning in and kissing the tip Cas’ nose when the urge struck him. The tip was softer than Dean assumed it would be when he'd taken a moment to consider it, but Cas’ reaction was far better than anything else he could have gained from the experience. 

 

Blue eyes crossed and the nose previously kissed wrinkled, leaving Dean to burst out laughing. Cas huffed out a breath of surprise and focused back on Dean, staring at his delight in something akin to amazement. Once he calmed down, Dean looked at him with a stupidly wide grin. 

 

“I like your nose, too,” Dean said as an explanation, cackling when Cas’ mouth parted and brought his hand up to touch his nose. 

 

“I can't believe Jack sent you here like this,” Cas muttered, dropping his hand. 

 

“Wasn't taking no for an answer,” Dean replied, shrugging and tipping backwards, making Cas reach out to grasp him. 

 

“I see,” Cas hummed, leaving his hands on Dean's elbows. “Dean, I've never seen you like this before. What exactly did you  _ consume? _ ” 

 

“M’not on drugs,” Dean huffed, offended. “I just went to a bar and drank, like usual. I'm like this because I'm here with you. Duh.” 

 

“I believe you,” Cas murmured, his eyebrows wrinkling together. “How'd you get home?” 

 

“Baby,” Dean said easily, reaching up to touch the wrinkled skin between Cas’ eyebrows, frowning when Cas smacked his hand away. 

 

“You  _ drove? _ ” 

 

“No,” Dean grumbled, his hand raising through the space between them, trying to touch the soft skin again. 

 

“Dean,” Cas growled, grabbing his hand and forcing it down, “who drove Baby?” 

 

“ _ Baby, _ ” Dean insisted, his free hand moving to continue the new mission. 

 

“Would you stop it?” Cas snapped, using his other hand to grab Dean's hand hovering in the air and yanking it down so their arms crossed over each other, their faces coming closer together. 

 

“I just wanna-” 

 

“Dean, how did you get home?” 

 

“Baby drove me home,” Dean insisted, letting out a peal of laughter that had Cas blinking rapidly in surprise. “She drove right by herself. Rowena made her.”

 

“Rowena,” Cas sighed in understanding, dropping his hands and leaning away from Dean’s space. “You went out and got drunk with Rowena.”

 

“No,” Dean muttered petulantly. “She showed up, and I tried to outdrink her. Needless to say, I did  _ not _ manage to do that.”

 

“She’s quite old, Dean,” Cas mused lightly. “Of course, she can hold her liquor.”

 

“She’s so tiny, though.” Dean mumbled, his hand reaching out, yet again, to touch the spot between Cas’ eyebrows. Dean was obsessing over it due to cuteness. 

 

“What are you doing?” Cas huffed, reaching up grasp his wrist and stare at him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. 

 

Dean licked his lips, a wave of heat shooting down his spine. Cas had no right looking like that when he was clearly annoyed, the crinkle becoming even more so predominant. Dean felt his heart knocking around his ribcage, a consistent tap that told Dean he was moving into dangerous territory. Because his mind was cloudy, he couldn't figure out why it was a bad idea. 

 

“I wanna touch you,” Dean whispered, meeting Cas’ eyes. “Never get to touch you anymore.”

 

“Dean, I think you’re entirely too drunk to be talking right now,” Cas muttered, his voice strangled as he started to push Dean’s hand back down. 

 

“No, Cas, please,” Dean insisted, twisting his wrist and pressing forward, staring at Cas in a pleading fashion. “There’s a spot I wanna touch. Looks soft. Lemme do it.”

 

Sighing, Cas dropped his hand and watched as Dean reached out to touch the skin between his crinkled eyebrows. It was soft, as Dean predicted, and there was a gentle push of skin under his finger. Dean broke out into a smile and glanced down looking at Cas in delight. 

 

“Happy?” Cas asked, his lips twitching at the corners. 

 

“You're beautiful,” Dean told him, bobbing his head seriously, letting his fingers drift over Cas’ right eyebrow and down his right cheek in a soft caress. “Not like an angel, but like Cas. No halo, no wings, just your scruff and your wrinkle of confusion. Pretty... so pretty.”

 

Cas swallowed thickly,something flashing across his face, an emotion Dean was sure he wouldn't be able to name, even if he was sober. Cas didn't try to pull away and in a strange show of affection, he leaned his face into Dean’s palm. Dean felt his stomach make a swishing motion as he moved forward, leaning in to press his lips against Cas’ forehead, a tender and gentle promise. 

 

“Dean,” Cas whispered, looking up when Dean pulled away slightly and surveyed him through foggy eyes, “I miss you, too.”

 

“Wish you were home, Cas. Wish I could make you breakfast or hate the trench coat somewhere else than here. I wouldn't be so sad - I don't think - if you were home.”

 

“I wish I was home, too.”

 

“All I got on Earth is your pair of wings,” Dean mumbled, rocking on his feet slightly, refusing to drop his hand. “You're here, though. I could just stay here with you.”

 

“Stay here with me, huh?” Cas asked with a sad smile. “What would we do in this emptiness? You’d surely go insane from boredom.”

 

“Can't be bored with you, Cas,” Dean chuckled, his bad mood escaping him as he grinned widely. “We could talk. I can tell you about my favorite songs, and you can tell me stories of heaven. Oh, we could have races! I bet I’m faster than you.”

 

“Doubtful,” Cas said flatly, a smirk gracing his face before dropping as he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Would that truly be enough for you? Just being here with me? No more food, or women, or music, or Baby. No more Sam to look after. It’d just be me and...nothing else.”

 

Dean frowned, feeling as if he was yanked on display, a mere ant under a microscope. For some reason, it felt like a test, like Cas was using his drucken state to his advantage. As it was, Dean was still too drunk to acknowledge that. The truth felt so light, flying from his lips like a bird just waiting to be set free.   

 

“It’d be more than enough,” Dean sputtered, offended. “Having you is more important than those things. You're my- Mine.”

 

And Dean wondered what the declaration said about him. The words weren't a lie; Cas was his, Cas was always enough, Cas was more important than women, music, and even Baby - much as he hated to admit it. But…Sam. His little brother was a different story, would always be held at a higher regard than anything else in the world. Being without Cas was hard; losing Sam would be harder. But it's not losing Sam if _ Dean  _ was the one leaving. He wasn't giving anything up. Sam would be fine; he'd still be alive, and safe, and happy.

 

_ That,  _ Dean could leave behind. 

 

So, given the chance, Dean would stay. 

 

Cas let out a short breath, his exhale blowing across Dean's face, and only then did Dean realize just how close they'd gotten. He'd already forgotten what he'd said, rooted on the spot by those endless pools of blue pinned on him.  _ ‘Kiss' _ , Dean thought to himself, not even managing to be articulate in his own mind. 

 

He wished he wasn't drunk then, because he wanted to act on his thought, wanted to yank Cas in and show him just how much he missed him. They'd never kissed before, never crossed that line, but Dean suddenly wanted to. He wasn't sure where it came from - maybe the alcohol - and it scared him. 

 

Dean couldn't do it, couldn't take that step when he wasn't sober enough to understand it fully. Cas peered at him, apparently at a loss for words, and he swayed closer, like maybe he wanted to kiss too. Dean  _ almost  _ closed the gap, almost fell into Cas without hesitation, but he turned his his head and shoved it into Cas’ neck, wrapping his arms around Cas tightly, the force of it sending them tumbling backwards. They landed awkwardly on the floor with equal huffs, groaning when they connected to the hard surface. 

 

“Dammit, Dean,” Cas snapped, squirming as he tried to get back up. 

 

“No, don't let me go,” Dean murmured, unashamed of laying flat out on top of Cas, and settling against him more comfortably. “Jus’ stay with me.” 

 

“I won't go anywhere,” Cas told him with a sigh, resigned to his fate. 

 

Dean pressed a smile into Cas’ neck and buried his hands into the messy hair atop his head, pleased with the little hum Cas gave at the contact. Warmth curled around them, and Dean felt sleep tug at him, but for once, he wasn't scared of it. 

 

“Never leave me,” Dean whispered, his words breathy and even more slurred as he gave into the tugs of sleep on his conscious. 

 

“Never,” Cas promised. 

 

At that, Dean fell asleep with a smile. 

 

* * *

 

“That's it,” Jack hissed, crossing his arms and pacing. “You're not going back.” 

 

“What!?” Dean burst out, glaring at the kid as he walked alongside the bed. “Jack, I'm fine, buddy. What are you talking about?” 

 

“Dean, you’re  _ paralyzed, _ ” Jack snapped, throwing his hands out. 

 

“Only temporarily,” Dean huffed, wiggling his big toes pointedly. “I'm getting feeling back!”

 

“I can't believe you think this is okay,” Jack breathed out, blinking slowly. 

 

“Look, I'll be back to normal in a few hours, okay? I think I'm already starting to get feeling in my ankles. I'm  _ fine,  _ so stop worrying. I'll be back to normal by the time I get to visit Cas again.” 

 

“I don't want to send you back anymore, Dean. It's infecting you. Every time you come back, you're… different than the last. Sicker, worse off; it's not healthy.” 

 

“Jack,” Dean sighed, letting his eyes drift closed, “I don’t think you understand. I'm handling this, okay? Just trust me. You do trust me, don't you?” 

 

Jack bit his lip, standing still and twisting his fingers together, eyeing Dean closely. For that brief moment, Dean was glad he wasn't able to move, or else he would've twitched under that gaze. Slowly, Jack dropped his hands and let out a deep breath. 

 

“I trust you,” Jack muttered, frowning. 

 

“Good,” Dean said easily, smiling slightly and winking at him. “Then we continue as we have been. As soon as I'm up and moving again, you can help me do some more research.” 

 

“What am I supposed to tell Sam?” Jack asked awkwardly, grimacing at the thought of lying about all of this. 

 

“The truth,” Dean said simply. “Well, sort of. Tell him I refuse to leave the bed, and tell him I want to be left alone. Make it plain to him that I'll make it out in my own time.” 

 

“Okay,” Jack nodded and chewed on his lip some more. “Dean? You'll tell me if you're not handling it, right? You'd let me know if...if it becomes too much, wouldn't you?” 

 

Paralysis, it seemed, was coming in handy more than he could have anticipated. If he'd been able to move, he would've bowed into himself from the guilt, giving himself away. As it was, he couldn't move a muscle and he looked steady as he pinned a serious expression on Jack and  _ lied.  _

 

“Of course.” 

 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Jack nodded and started towards the door. Dean watched him leave, and once the door was fully closed behind him, Dean stared up at the ceiling in shame and guilt.

 

When Dean had woken up from visiting Cas, he'd been surprisingly free from a hangover. Moments after he'd appreciated that fact, he'd remembered everything that had happened between him and Cas. Those memories had sent him reeling and he'd went to sit up, needing to be in motion as he processed what had happened. 

 

He hadn't been able to move. 

 

None of his limbs moved, not even twitching, and Dean had laid in bed, absolutely panicking. There was nothing he could do to fix it and it was still late at night, so Dean had forced himself to calm down and sleep, hoping that by morning he'd be fine. Yet, when he'd woken a second time, he still hadn't been able to move, not even a toe. 

 

Dean hadn't called out, refusing to let Sam in on what happened, so he waited until Jack walked past his room to call him in. Jack, of course, had been frantic. He was frightened and declared that Dean never return to Cas. Fortunately, he finally managed to move his big toes, much to his delight, and that only reassured Jack minutely. 

 

In the end, though, Dean had reassured him enough to send him back to Cas. Which, that was all good and everything, but Dean had one problem he couldn't shake. 

 

He was absolutely fucking  _ terrified.  _

 

He knew, logically, that it wasn't normal to just wake up paralyzed. He knew it was because of the trips to see Cas. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he was no longer  _ handling it.  _ Despite knowing all that, Dean was also aware that he didn't care enough to stop seeing Cas. 

 

It frightened him, sure, but the thought of never seeing Cas again somehow managed to frighten him even more. He didn't want to examine that too closely but having no way to escape his thoughts, Dean did anyway. 

 

He remembered visiting Cas, despite how much alcohol he'd consumed. He was never going to forgive Rowena for putting him in such a state, though he knew it wasn't truly her fault. He'd just gotten so...giddy at the thought of being with Cas again. 

 

Dean had done some stupid,  _ stupid  _ shit. 

 

He had fucking kissed Cas’ nose for God's sake! It was almost too cheesy to think about. Thinking about the way Cas had held him, how he'd almost went in for a kiss was no better. Maybe better than thinking of all the times he'd called Cas pretty or worse,  _ beautiful.  _ Absinthe was added to the list of things he was currently blaming besides himself for his ridiculous behavior. 

 

Either way, there was an undeniable  _ something _ between them and wasn't that fucking tragic? Cas was dead, and Dean was getting the fucking warm and fuzzies for him. 

 

The thought hit him like a ton of bricks and his fingers twitched as he attempted to clench his fists. Slowly, Dean took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was being ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn't help it. His behavior towards Cas while drunk was borderline pathetic, and undeniably telling. 

 

There was no way for him to escape his thoughts, either. He just had to lay there and let his mind run rapid with thoughts of feelings, and he couldn't do shit about it. Frankly, it was pure torture. 

 

It wasn't plausible, was it? He and Cas are - we're…  _ fuck _ \- best friends. Cas was family, an intricate part of his and Sam's life, an unmovable rock to keep them steady. Dean relied on him, sure, and always wanted to see him, but did that mean they were more than just friends? It wasn't like they were making world-ending sacrifices for the other, or constantly worried about each other's well being, or even obsessed with the other's happiness. 

 

Actually…

 

_ No,  _ it wasn't like that. They didn't do shit like people who had feelings for each other. They fucking  _ didn't!  _ Wait...did they? 

 

Dean's eyes popped open and all his breath escaped him as the realization slammed into him. His fingers finally curled into weak fists, and Dean thought he was gonna hurl. 

 

They  _ did  _ do things that suggested they had feelings for each other. Dean called him to update him when they reached a new location, for fuck’s sake. Dean gave him a mixtape and he hadn't even done a double take. Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with him? 

 

“Oh god,” Dean whispered, eyes wide, pinned on the ceiling, ignoring the feeling slowly returning to his hands. 

 

Thoughts whipped through his head, and Dean realized he was spiraling. Suddenly, everything they'd ever done, ever been through, ever said to each other, felt entirely different.  _ ‘I need you’, _ he'd said once, drawing Cas back to himself when Naomi had control. It hadn't been a lie, and it was still true to this day. Dean didn't know what to do with the knowledge, and he didn't know how he felt. 

 

“Hey, Dean, are you alright?” 

 

Dean let out a whimper, his hands and feet jerking. He was distantly pleased that he was starting to feel his knees again. He tried to stay calm as Sam entered the room, even his steps sounding tentative. 

 

“Yeah, Sam,” Dean lied, his head on a constant loop of  _ ‘what the fuck’.  _

 

“Jack said you don't want to leave your bed and that you're not feeling well,” Sam murmured softly, gently sitting down on the bed and entering Dean's line of vision. “Are you alright, dude? What's up? You sick again?”

 

“Sam, I think I'm going insane,” Dean whispered, eyes still wide and locked onto the ceiling. “I think there's something wrong with me, man. Have you ever just reevaluated your whole life because of one stupid mistake?” 

 

“Yes,” Sam said automatically, his mouth twisting before he leaned over and caught Dean's gaze. “What's this all about?” 

 

“It's about...Cas,” Dean admitted, swallowing thickly. “I think I  _ just  _ realized something, but I'm too late to do anything about it.” 

 

“Oh,” Sam muttered, blinking rapidly and sitting back, averting his eyes to the floor in obvious awkwardness. “I, um- I think I know what you're talking about.” 

 

“Eh,” Dean garbled out, his voice a high pitch of doubt, “I dunno about that, Sammy.” 

 

“You're still grieving him,” Sam sighed, reaching up to push a hand through his hair and grip it tightly. “I mean, I am too. Just...not like you, I guess.” 

 

“I don't think I'll ever stop,” Dean croaked out, managing to bend his knee slightly. 

 

“You can't live like this forever. You've gotten better with Jack, yes, but Dean, you're going to have to move on at some point,” Sam whispered gently, kindness and pity practically seeping from every inch of him. 

 

“It feels like I'm stuck here, like this. I think I'm gonna see him when I look over my shoulder, and he's just not there. I want to grab an extra beer every time I go to the fridge, not that he ever drank it to begin with. I keep waiting for him to be here, and he isn't,” Dean's words cut off, halting and cracking from distress, but he forced himself to continue, ignoring how his voice trembled. “It's stupid, I know that, but every day feels like the last, like I'm stuck in some kind of groundhog day or something.  Out of nowhere, I feel like I get kicked in my chest, and I can't breathe because I remember that he's gone.” 

 

Sam didn't say anything for a moment, but he hung his head and inhaled deeply, holding it within him until it burst out of him in one long sigh. Dean frowned at the ceiling, hating the way it felt to be so open and vulnerable. It was true, though. He felt that way, despite seeing Cas every week. Remembering that he was dead felt like an awful prank that never ended. 

 

“Dean…” Sam said quietly, his mouth closing around his name and not opening again. 

 

“How did you do it?” Dean asked, his words barely over a whisper. “With Jess, I mean?” 

 

“I- I don't know. It felt like the end of the world for a long time after she was gone. Even focusing on my revenge didn't help, and when I managed to get it, I  _ still  _ felt that way. You helped, though,” Sam explained, reaching up to swipe his hand over his mouth. “Maybe it was just time, but even now, Dean, I still sometimes feel like that about her.” 

 

“It's not fair,” Dean said, straining his arm until he could lift it to lay it across his stomach. 

 

“No, it's not,” Sam agreed, glancing at Dean apologetically. “Cas was a brother to me,  _ family,  _ and I miss him every single day. I feel it too, but I can't even imagine what you're going through. Me and Jess? We were young, and she didn't know the real me. You and Cas? You two were...best friends, sharing some profound bond that  _ no one  _ could touch on. Truth be told, I don't know what to say to you, how to help, but I'm so fucking sorry, man.” 

 

“I dunno why it feels like this for me and not you,” Dean grunted, frowning. 

 

Sam just looked at him seriously, eyes sad. Swallowing at the feeling of unadulterated fear crawling through him at the look of pity on Sam's face, Dean realized that there was a lot that he wasn't willing to admit to himself. He wasn't ready for Sam's next words, but he couldn't very well escape them. 

 

“Yes, you do, Dean.” 

 

Truth be told, Dean sort of did.


	12. Chapter 12

As soon as Dean was able to move, he crawled from his bed with an eagerness that was almost pathetic. His muscles ached from disuse, and he barely managed to keep from falling over. Slowly, he walked to the bathroom, grimacing the whole way. 

 

Once he relieved himself, he leaned over the sink and splashed his face. Drops of water crawled down his face as Dean peered at himself in the mirror, and frowned at his reflection. He realized he looked different, and over the span of a mere few months, he had changed noticeably. 

 

Eyes gaunt and tired, he looked as if he was still dreaming of hell. Green bloodshot eyes flickered over his features, pausing on the scruff on his chin. When was the last time he'd shaved? He reached up and ran his nails across it, frowning at the scratchy noise it made. Dropping his hand, Dean sighed and pressed his lips into a thin line. Overall, he just looked as if he'd given up. 

 

He thought about Cas, about how he looked the same as when he died. Haphazard hair, bright blue eyes, and just the right amount of a maintained five o’clock shadow. It had been months, but Cas hadn't changed at all. 

 

Because he was dead. 

 

“He's dead,” Dean breathed, staring at his reflection, watching the way his face fell. 

 

It didn't feel real.  _ ‘It's not’ _ , he told himself. He clenched his jaw and curled his fingers around the porcelain sink tightly. He shook his head, letting out a slow breath, and fixed his reflection with a serious look. 

 

“He's _ dead, _ ” Dean repeated firmly. 

 

_ ‘He's not’ _ . 

 

Dean felt the crack in his chassis as it formed, ripping an agonized sound from his mouth. He curled forward and pressed the top of his head into the mirror, squeezing his eyes closed. Cas wasn't- He wasn't, he couldn't be. 

 

Dean was no longer handling anything, his grip on his fragile emotions turning to smoke and slipping through his fingers. Tears slapped against the sink, and Dean was sure it was the loudest thing he'd ever heard. A consistent  _ drip, drip, drip _ he could only listen to as he panted heavily, and Dean knew that something was terribly wrong. 

 

Suddenly, he ached to see Cas again, the call of the void like some kind of tug at his heart, begging him to return home. Dean wanted to, but he forced himself to look up and stare at his reflection again. 

 

“Get it together, Dean; just keep it together.” 

 

He couldn't, though. Everything felt like it was falling apart, just ripping slowly and chipping away. He didn't think anything made sense anymore, except Cas. Somehow, through his own bullshit, Cas was the only thing that brought him clarity. It was the promise in the curl of Cas’ lips, the comfort of Cas’ chest rising and falling, letting Dean know everything was alright in the world. 

 

As long as Cas was there, Dean was going to be okay. It was irrational, but Dean thought he could spend the rest of his life visiting Cas if that's how it had to be. In all honesty, if Dean had to choose, he wasn't sure he would decide to stay back home if he was given the opportunity to stay with Cas forever. 

 

Dean thought about Cas, his head tilted curiously as he asked if that would be enough for Dean, just the dark and Cas. He'd said it was more than enough, and Dean knew he hadn't lied. His stomach recoiled in on itself as he realized what that meant. He'd give it all up, all of it, just to keep Cas real. No more Sam, no more Jack, just Cas’ smile and his stupid,  _ stupid  _ trench coat. 

 

Anger poured through him and his hand shot out before he could stop it, his knuckles colliding with the mirror. It broke around his fists and cracks branched out, sending his reflection into disarray. Almost immediately, his anger fizzled out and his hand began to throb.  _ ‘He's dead’ _ , he thought blankly. 

 

He stared at the mirror, at his reflection, and he realized that it did him more justice then. Just like it, Dean was shattered. 

 

* * *

 

“What happened to your hand?” 

 

Sam shook his head at Jack, already having found the broken mirror, but it was too late. Dean froze and looked up slowly. Jack waited, blinking innocently as he reached out towards the swollen hand with all intentions of healing it. Dean snatched his hand back. 

 

“It's fine,” Dean said sharply. 

 

“But…” Jack protested, frowning. 

 

“No,” Dean told him tersely and stood up, shrugging on his jacket. 

 

“You're going somewhere,” Jack observed, clearly surprised. 

 

Dean gritted his teeth against the annoyance that bloomed through him. To be fair, the kid had a right to be a little surprised. Dean hadn't left the bunker - not counting his midnight trip to the bar that Sam still didn't know about - since the last hunt they'd all went on, and a month had passed since then. However,  Dean didn't like to acknowledge that. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean snapped, shooting a quick look over at Sam. “I'll be gone for a couple of days. Don't worry about it.”

 

“Okay,” Jack chirped happily, waving a hand, looking like a young child. “Have fun!” 

 

Dean grunted and made a swift exit, gripping his keys like a lifeline. He'd almost made it to the stairs when he felt a hand on his shoulder, tugging him around. For a split second, Dean's heart jumped as he expected it to be Cas, but it was Sam. 

 

“Dean,” Sam said slowly, looking unsettled. 

 

“What?” 

 

“You okay, man?” 

 

“Just peachy,” Dean huffed, crossing his arms and waiting. “Why?” 

 

“You're acting- Well, I'm just checking on you because you seem...upset,” Sam told him. 

 

“M’fine. I'll be back later,” Dean muttered, dropping his arms and backing up. “I just need to get away for awhile.” 

 

“Okay,” Sam agreed, biting his lip and taking a deep breath. “Before you go, I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” 

 

“Can it wait? I'm not in the mood.” 

 

“It's kind of important-” 

 

“Look,” Dean interrupted him sharply, slicing a hand through the air, “I need to leave, alright? We can talk about this later.” 

 

“I want you to take Jack with you,” Sam blurted out, eyes wide and throat bobbing. 

 

“What?” Dean murmured, frowning. 

 

“You're going to visit the wings, right?” Sam asked, shifting awkwardly. “It's just that Jack's been really interested in Cas lately, like more than usual, and I think it'd be good if he went.”

 

Dean stared at Sam. His big behemoth of a brother was tense, like he was waiting for Dean to explode. Dean figured it was a founded expectation, but he couldn't bring himself to feel any anger. Mostly, Dean just felt deep regret. 

 

“Okay,” Dean whispered. 

 

“Really?” Sam asked, blinking. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, forcing out a cough. “Send him out to the car.” 

 

Sam nodded, a hopeful smile lighting his face, and he bounded off to the kitchen. Dean trekked off to his car, his shoulders feeling heavy. In truth, he didn't really want to share Cas’ wings with  _ anyone,  _ but he knew Jack deserved to see them, to get to have a piece of Cas for himself. Cas would want that. 

 

Dean leaned against the door and waited for Jack to meet him. The kid eventually walked through the door, looking hesitant. Dean didn't have the energy to reassure him, and maybe Jack sensed that because he simply moved to the passenger side and slid in. Taking a deep breath, Dean followed suit and started Baby up, meeting Jack's gaze for one moment, conveying everything that needed to be known with one simple look. Though Jack hadn't been alive too long, he understood. 

 

The ride was silent, and for that, Dean was thankful. There wasn't anything to say. Too many mixed emotions assaulted him and he wasn't sure what he would say if Jack attempted to speak. The kid was quiet, a nervous energy around him, and he only seemed to grow more anxious as they drew closer, despite not knowing where it was. 

 

They stopped late in the night, most of the way there. Dean muttered a quick ‘ _ get some sleep, Jack _ ’ and closed his eyes. When he woke in the dim morning, Jack was still wide awake, and he looked no less relaxed. Dean simply started the car and continued on. 

 

When they arrived, Jack was visibly shaking, his eyes wide and watery. Dean didn't offer any comfort, just got out of the car and walked to the pair of wings he hadn't visited in so long. Seeing them - still as prominent as the day they were burned there - shocked him. 

 

Dean halted in his tracks and stared down at them in disbelief. He knew they were there, had cried over them plenty, but he'd stayed away for so long that it was like a slap in the face.  _ ‘It doesn't make sense’ _ . 

 

“My parents died here.” 

 

Dean didn't even turn around, refusing to tear his gaze from the ground. Jack's voice had shook, and that was just another thing Dean felt guilty about. Abruptly, Jack's shoulder brushed his as he moved closer and joined Dean in staring down at the scorched grass. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Dean breathed, the weight of his guilt choking him. “I- I couldn't save them. I'm so sorry, Jack.” 

 

“It's not your fault,” Jack said simply, his words matter of fact, clearly something he believed. 

 

“They loved you, both of them.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

Jack leaned down and placed his hand in the dead grass, his head bowing. Dean closed his eyes, showing his respect, and only opened them again when Jack stood back up. The kid was crying openly, no shame in his face, and he looked at Dean with a weak smile. Dean felt his own eyes prickle. 

 

“This is all I had before you came into my life, Jack. Just these wings.”

 

“Flowers will grow here,” Jack promised him, his lips curling slightly. “I made it so.” 

 

“Thank you,” Dean whispered. “For all of it.” 

 

“It's never an issue to help you, Dean,” Jack murmured sincerely. “Now, I would like to go to my mother's resting place.” 

 

“The room at the top of the stairs. That's where you were born, where she…” Dean trailed off, and Jack just nodded. 

 

“I will return.” 

 

With that, Jack turned around and started off towards the house. Dean watched him to until the door closed and then focused his gaze back on the wings. They already looked healthier, somehow, and Dean swallowed thickly. 

 

Dean slowly crouched down, ignoring the way his knees popped, and reached down to trace the line of the right wing. He was uncomfortable with them, not sure why they were still there. No matter how much he told himself that Cas was dead, his heart seemed to disagree, screaming out to him that it was all a lie.  _ ‘Cas is fine; he's waiting’ _ . 

 

“I've had all this time to come to terms with it, and I just fucking  _ can't, _ ” Dean bit out. 

 

_ ‘Why, why can't I let him go’ _ , Dean thought, clenching his fist and hanging his head. He knew, of course he did. He'd always known, but he didn't know how to handle it. Never had, and now, as of late, Dean couldn't handle anything. His already weak grip on all things revolving reality had given out. 

 

He could feel himself slipping, could literally track the panic as it flooded into him. His breathing grew short and his head swam, dizziness taking over. Vertigo had him swaying to the side, and Dean shakily sunk to the ground. He pushed his fingers into the grass and hung his head between his knees. 

 

He didn't know how long he sat there, trying to catch his breath and focusing on calming down. Why couldn't he fucking breathe properly? Minutes - or possibly hours - later, Jack walked back outside, moving to stand behind Dean and place a hand on his shoulder. As soon as the hand connected with his shoulder, Dean let out a pitiful moan and curled further into himself. 

 

“Dean,” Jack said in concern, his stress obvious, “what's wrong? What can I do?” 

 

“Send me back,” Dean hiccuped out, lifting his head and staring at Jack with wide, unfocused eyes. “Let me see Cas. I have to see him.” 

 

“It's too soon,” Jack told him, biting his lip as he felt pity for the first time. “I'm sorry, Dean, but I can't send you back yet.” 

 

“Please, Jack,” Dean whimpered, fully aware he was begging and not having enough mind to care. “Please, I have to. I have to know he's real. Please, please,  _ please. _ ” 

 

Jack stared down at him in horror, his face twisting with realization. Dean didn't care, didn't give a shit if Jack knew he'd lost his mind. All that mattered was the brush against his forehead and the black curtain that closed around Jack as he was sent careening back. 

 

As soon as Dean was settled, he scrambled to his feet and whipped around. Cas stood before him, staring down at his hands in faint surprise. Relief slammed into him, and Dean felt his panic subside completely. As easy as breathing, Dean felt all the pieces click back together, and his grip on reality strengthened. 

 

“Dean,” Cas greeted, looking up, “you look unwell. Are you alright?” 

 

“Never fucking better,” Dean breathed out, not even ashamed at the truth in the words. 

 

Cas smiled softly, and Dean knew everything was going to be alright. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is literally my shortest chapter. Whoops???

Jack watched Dean descend farther under his cover, pale face disappearing. He was sick again, and Jack knew it wasn't a normal thing. It had been very hard for Dean to drive them home, and he constantly pulled over to vomit. 

 

Now, he was in the bed, being force fed medicine by Sam, and looking as if he was only getting worse by the minute. Unease slid through him, and not for the first time, Jack had to stop and fully examine the emotion to understand it. 

 

Something was wrong with Dean, and not just his usual pain. He was acting strange, begging to see Castiel when it truly wouldn't be a good idea. Jack assumed he was trying to bring him home, but he considered the possibility of that never happening. 

 

It did not feel good. 

 

“Jack,” Sam whispered from the doorway, causing Jack to jump. 

 

“Yes?” Jack asked, turning towards him slowly, the normal feeling of guilt crawling into him whenever he looked at Sam. 

 

“Wanna go grab that homework from last night and go over it?” Sam asked in the way that told Jack it wasn't actually a question. 

 

“Yes,” Jack replied and followed Sam out towards his room, thankful Sam waited out in the hallway while he retrieved it. He needed to clean up a bit. 

 

“Did you have trouble with the fractions?” Sam murmured as they headed towards the kitchen table. 

 

“Not after you showed me by ripping the paper into different parts,” Jack said honestly. 

 

Sam gave him a pleased grin, something proud in his expression, and pushed his hair out of his face as they sat down. Jack went to grab the worksheet from his bag **,** but the expression on Sam's face stopped him. He looked distracted, worried, and scared. 

 

“Did you lose it?” Sam muttered, looking up after he went still. 

 

“Is Dean going to be alright?” Jack demanded slowly, dropping his folder onto the table but refusing to open it. “You look worried.” 

 

“I  _ am  _ worried, Jack,” Sam admitted, sinking back into his chair. “Dean doesn't usually get sick, at least not like this, but this is his second time in one month.” 

 

“Do you think he's acquired cancer?” Jack hissed, eyes widening as he recalled the YouTube video Sam had him watch on disease and medicine. Could the dark place have caused Dean to get cancer? 

 

“What!?  _ No,  _ he doesn't have cancer. Jesus, Jack,” Sam burst out, pressing his fingers to his mouth and shaking his head. 

 

“Oh,” Jack whispered, shame filling him up. 

 

He glanced down at the unopened folder and regretted asking. Dean had said he'd be fine, so he would be, right? Jack trusted Dean, but despite that, he couldn't help but feel a little doubt. It didn't feel like he was helping Dean by sending him to Castiel anymore. 

 

“Hey, Jack, don't worry so much,” Sam reassured him, reaching over to squeeze his wrist. “What do you say we take your mind off it, hmm? Wanna try your powers again?” 

 

Jack adored Sam, he really did, but when Sam brought up him using his powers, he found himself bothered by him. Sometimes, it felt like Sam still wanted him to help get Mary back, despite how he'd told Sam flat-out that he couldn't. He wished he could help with that, but he didn't know how to make another new world. All he could do was make pencils float, heal an injury, and send Dean to Castiel. 

 

Which, that last one was growing harder each time. It took more energy and more focus to send Dean to the dark room Castiel was in. He wasn't even sure how he'd found it to begin with. It had come to him in a dream, a small tug at his heart, and he'd followed it right to Castiel. He was always asleep, splayed out on the dark floor, and he looked lonely. So Jack had gotten the idea to send Dean. 

 

Jack stood up abruptly, a chill tap dancing down his spine. It hit him then, what was going on. It shocked him to realize it, but Dean was  _ lying.  _ Sam was worried, Jack was doubting, it was harder to send Dean back, and it all added up to Dean lying about it.

 

“I need to go sleep,” Jack said distractedly, practically running from the room and ignoring Sam when he called out his name. 

 

Closing his room door and locking it, Jack moved to settle himself on the bed. He laid back and took a deep breath, fighting the nervousness and anxiety that took the forefront of his mind. Jack remembered when Dean had said that Castiel would like to see him, and he focused on that as he closed his eyes and let himself fall into nothingness. 

 

When he opened his eyes, he was staring up at black. It was truly disorienting, and Jack slowly sat up to look around. There, in the midst of all the darkness, Castiel stood. 

 

Jack froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Castiel looked up and blinked in surprise when he saw him. His surprise slowly changed to awe as he walked closer, eyes flitting all over him. Jack stood up, taking a deep breath as Castiel drew near. 

 

“Jack?” Castiel asked softly. 

 

“Hello, Castiel,” Jack murmured, his chest feeling as if it was caving in. 

 

Castiel let out a slow breath, his eyes wide and his lips parted. Almost with deliberate slowness, Castiel moved forward and wrapped him up in a gentle hug. Jack felt the water gather in his eyes - tears, Dean had called them - and he brought his arms up to grip Castiel in return. 

 

It was all he'd ever wanted for a long time. Recently, he'd been missing Castiel, his mind straying to the possibility of having his father back. Though he missed his mother, he knew she wasn't able to return home. He had her video, though, and all the letters she wrote to him that he'd found in the house. Castiel, however? Just like Dean, he had nothing but dead grass in the shape of wings. 

 

“Do not cry,” Castiel said, his hold growing a bit tighter. “There is no need to cry.” 

 

Only then did Jack realize that he was trembling, that his sobs were escaping him. Jack let out a small whimper, and he pressed his forehead into Castiel’s shoulder, his body going slack as he just... _ let go.  _

 

He didn't have to be strong anymore, or make big decisions, or fight with himself to choose what to believe. Castiel was here for now, and he was going to help. 

 

“I need your help,” Jack croaked out, pulling back and staring at Castiel with wide eyes. 

 

“Of course,” Castiel replied immediately, no hesitation to be found. “What can I do? What is the problem?” 

 

“It's- It's Dean,” Jack whispered, swallowing thickly and looking down. 

 

Somehow, despite the fact that he was trying to help, it felt like he was betraying Dean. Castiel’s grip tightened on Jack's arms, and concern flashed across his face. That eased some of Jack's guilt, made him think that Castiel only wanted the best for Dean, made him think that Castiel would handle it. 

 

“What about Dean?” Cas asked, his throat bobbing. “Is he alright, son?” 

 

Jack couldn't deny the small amount of joy at being called  _ ‘son',  _ but that was overtaken by the despair in his tone as he looked up at Cas and whispered, “No, Castiel, he's not.” 


	14. Chapter 14

It had taken the full week, but Dean was finally feeling like shit a whole lot less. Once he was up and moving, the first thing he did was search for Jack. He found the kid in his room, perched on his bed, and reading a piece of paper in his hands. 

 

“You still doing homework?” Dean asked, blinking rapidly when Jack jumped and shoved the paper into his pocket hastily. 

 

“No,” Jack answered, a blush blooming on his face, his eyes begging Dean not to ask. 

 

Dean was being good, for now. 

 

“Well, I'm feeling much better now, and it's been a week,” Dean told Jack, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. 

 

“You wish to see Castiel,” Jack murmured, a frown gracing his lips before disappearing. 

 

“Look, I know that you-” 

 

“No, I think it's a good idea.” 

 

Dean snapped his mouth closed in surprise. Jack just stared at him, face blank and giving nothing away. For the first time, the kid wasn't fighting him on it, and Dean was relieved. Maybe, Jack would stop fighting him on it altogether, just an easy transition. 

 

“Awesome,” Dean said, jerking his head towards the door. “Let's go to my room.” 

 

“Okay,” Jack agreed. 

 

They walked in silence towards Dean's room, and Dean got the distinct impression that he was missing something. There was something that felt off, but Dean couldn't place his finger on what. He tried to work it out as he settled on his bed, but before he could fully settle into his suspicion, Jack was leaning over his with a hopeful expression and sending him reeling back into the darkness to see Cas. 

 

Dean gasped when he opened his eyes, pain slamming into him as he sat up. He groaned and turned, placing his hands on the floor and pushing himself up. 

 

“Cas,” Dean called out before he was even fully stood up, trying to ignore his pain. 

 

“Dean, you have to stop,” Cas murmured. 

 

“Stop?” Dean gasped out, sharp pains shooting throughout his body. “Stop what?” 

 

“Dean, you are not well,” Cas sighed, walking over to Dean and helping him stand up fully with a look of concern. “You cannot come back to visit me.” 

 

“What?” Dean blurted, all pain forgotten as his head whipped around to stare at Cas. 

 

“This will be the last time we see each other, Dean,” Cas told him, his voice quiet and soft. 

 

“No,” Dean denied immediately, frowning. 

 

“Dean,” Cas said gently, dropping his hands from Dean and stepping back, “I spoke with Jack and this place is killing you.” 

 

“No,  _ no, _ ” Dean gritted out, shaking his head forcefully, as if willing his next statement to be true. “I can handle it, Cas. I  _ am  _ handling it.” 

 

“Every time you come back here, you're body takes a toll. There's a very high possibility that if you come back even once more, you may go to sleep and never wake up again.” 

 

“I always wake up. I'll be fine _. _ ” 

 

“Dean,” Cas murmured, face crumbling into something incredibly tragic, “I don't want you to come back here anymore.” 

 

“You're just saying that,” Dean burst out, striding over to grab at Cas’ shoulder, desperation clawing at him. 

 

“No,” Cas whispered, his eyes lifting to meet Dean's gaze, “I'm not.” 

 

Dean inhaled sharply, his hands falling from Cas and hanging limply at his sides. He felt, ridiculously, as if he'd been slapped in the face. Logically, Dean was aware that Cas was just worried about him, but it still hurt to hear those words directed at him. 

 

“If I can't come back,” Dean started, his voice hollow and his eyes downcast, “then you have to come home.” 

 

“I don't know if I can do that,” Cas admitted, sighing heavily. 

 

“Then, I'll be back,” Dean said, looking up and shrugging unapologetically. 

 

“Every time you come here, this place wants to keep you. If you keep coming back, it  _ will  _ succeed,” Cas growled, narrowing his eyes at Dean and standing up straighter. 

 

“So be it,” Dean muttered flippantly. “Then I'm here. I'm here, and you're here, so what's so bad about it, Cas?” 

 

“It's not that simple,” Cas huffed. “You will go to sleep as if to wake up to Jack and Sam, except you won't. You'll never wake up. You'll know nothingness, as I do when you leave.” 

 

“Okay,” Dean retorted sharply. “And?” 

 

“And?” Cas repeated flatly, staring at Dean as if he'd lost his mind. “ _ And?  _ Dean, you are  _ not _ doing that. You have Sam and Jack to go back to. You have a life to live. When it is your time, you will go, but you will go to  _ heaven _ .” 

 

Dean felt the anger and bitterness always simmering in the pit of his stomach erupt and course through his veins, sending shockwaves of impulses through his brain. Before Dean could get a grip on it, he was reaching out and shoving Cas, forcing him back a few spaces by mere surprise alone. Dean tried to shove him again and Cas went solid, abruptly becoming an immovable force, before shoving Dean back. 

 

“Fuck you!” Dean shouted, throwing out a punch that clipped Cas’ jaw to no avail before he could think why he shouldn't. 

 

“Dean!” Cas snapped, reaching out and trying to grab Dean's wrists. “ _ Stop this! _ ” 

 

Cas grappled around Dean's consistent attacks, not even seeming to register the hands flying his way. He took the opportunity and wrapped each of his hands around Dean's wrists, a steel vice that held Dean in place. Still, Dean struggled, yanking and shoving in equal measure as fury attempted to fly out of him in any way possible. 

 

“What about you, huh?” Dean shouted, suddenly changing tactics and pushing into Cas’ space, getting in his face. 

 

“Dean,” Cas said forcefully, giving Dean a little shake and staring at him with all the seriousness of an angel, “this is not about me. I am dead.”

 

“I know!” Dean growled, swiveling his hands so he could reach out and grasp Cas’ collar to shake him back. “Don't you think I fucking know that? You're dead, and you're here. Right here in- in nothingness. Where’s yours? You're a damn angel! Where is your fucking heaven!?”

 

“This is not about me,” Cas repeated, his face softening even as Dean tugged against his hold feverently and attempted to continue his fight. 

 

“Yes, it is!” Dean shot back, slowly stopping his movements as he realized that Cas wasn't going to let him go. “It is about you, to  _ me,  _ okay? You should be up there, relaxing with some weirdly happy version of me. Just- just relaxing and watching leaves float over a lake. Cas, you've earned that, not this. Not something dark and- and  _ empty. _ ”

 

“That is not how it worked out,” Cas explained gently, as if calming a child. “But Dean, it does not matter either way. Being here, I'm just asleep. There is nothing, no worries, no pain, just nothing. I don't even know that I'm here.”

 

“But  _ I  _ do,” Dean hissed, shaking Cas’ collar again for emphasis. “I know that you're here. I know that you're here, and not with me. I know that you're drifting off and never waking up until you see me again. I know that it's not right.”

 

“What's not right is you giving up on your family, on your life, simply because you pity my situation,” Cas snapped, dropping Dean's wrists as if they were scalding and turning away. 

 

Cas’ words stung, leaving his anger to boil back over yet again. His chest tightened and Dean reached out, grasping Cas’ shoulder to yank him around, satisfaction whipping through him when Cas went with motion. Cas faced him, eyes lit up with anger and- and  _ something else.  _

 

Dean wanted to lash out again, wanted to inflict some kind of damage as way of explanation because none of this was fucking fair, and Cas acted like it was completely fine. He wanted to, but something in Cas’ expression had him pausing. 

 

“It's not that,” Dean croaked out, opting for complete honesty with Cas’ eyes pinned on him as they were. “Cas, I don't pity you. I don't want to leave my family. I don't want to just die. It's not any of that. Really, Cas, it's that  _ I don't want to be without you. _ ” 

 

“Dean,” Cas breathed out, his face crumbling as he swallowed thickly and bowed his head. 

 

It was all he said, but for Dean, it was enough. It was everything. A different kind of emotion flowed through him, producing an entire different set of impulses. 

 

Dean pushed into Cas’ space yet again, reaching out with gentle hands and cupping Cas’ face, urging him to look up. Cas went with the motion, and Dean barely let him tilt his head fully before he was leaning in and covering Cas’ mouth with his own. 

 

Dean's eyes flickered shut automatically, and Cas’ bulged. And Dean went pliant, leaning comfortably into him, just as Cas froze. 

 

There was a moment that Dean thought Cas was just going to yank away, but the moment passed and abruptly, Cas was kissing him back. It was gentle, a slow slide of lips that dragged against Dean's mind, swiping something warm and wanting as it went. Someone hummed in pleasure, and Dean wasn't sure if it was him or not, but he didn't care, choosing to reply to the noise by reaching up to twine his fingers into the soft hair at Cas’ nape, giving an experimental tug and receiving a nip at his bottom lip for it. 

 

And that was it. A little scrape of teeth, and Dean was gone. He inhaled sharply through his nose and everything broke loose in his thoughts, waves upon waves of greediness and  _ desire  _ rushing into his mind. 

 

Fingers pressed in the crevice between his shoulders, and Dean wanted a bed, wanted to get horizontal so bad that it hurt. Cas grabbed Dean's bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, making Dean's breath catch as his legs went weak. 

 

“Fuck,” Dean gasped out as Cas broke away and started nibbling a light trail down his throat. 

 

It felt... _ good.  _ Actually, it felt fan-fucking-tastic, but Dean didn't want to linger on that. Cas slowly lifted his head, stopping his delightful exploring, and chose to stare at Dean with ridiculously bright eyes instead. Dean swallowed, thinking about what had happened, taking stock of himself, noting the raging hard-on he was sporting. 

 

“Fuck, indeed,” Cas agreed, his raspy voice even more broken and deep. 

 

“I, uh, I would apologize,” Dean mumbled and shifted away, clearing his throat, trying his best to keep his cool, “but I'm not sorry.”

 

“Dean,” Cas murmured, his fingers running lightly over his lips, catching against the plump skin and tugging in a deliciously distracting way, as he stared at Dean thoughtfully, “you do realize that this only strengthens my need to protect you, right?”

 

“Cas,” Dean sighed, reaching up to scrub a hand through his hair, “you have to understand-”

 

“I do understand and-”

 

“No, you don’t!”

 

“Do you think I returned that kiss, especially with that much vigor, simply for something to do?” Cas snapped, narrowing his eyes. 

 

“I mean, no,” Dean spluttered, blinking rapidly. “I just-”

 

“So, I  _ do  _ understand, very much so,” Cas bit out. “You cannot come back here, Dean. Kiss or not, I would rather you be home; healthy and alive.”

 

“Just come home, then,” Dean snapped.

 

“I want to!” Cas bellowed, seeming suddenly a whole lot taller than he was moments before as he advanced on Dean. “I would give anything to be back. I would like to see Sam and be there for Jack, just as you're so willing to give them up. I would love to be there with you, for you, aside you for as long as you would have me, in any way you want. But I can't!”

 

Cas heaved a breath and bowed his head, swallowing thickly. Dean watched his chest rise and fall, watched the way Cas shoved a hand through his hair, and he realized that he was being selfish. Cas was basically human, aside from his angelic powers and non-human habits, and he felt things, wanted things, hoped for things, just as much as Dean. 

 

Dean felt like shit. He came to the abrupt realization that he'd basically been begging Cas to come home, urging him to do so as if it was his choice, as if Cas didn't want to already. But it was a hell of a lot easier to assume that Cas needed convincing rather than face the problem that Cas may never get to come home. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Dean muttered weakly. “Cas, I'm so sorry.”

 

“I may not be able to be there, but Dean...you are,” Cas insisted, stepping close and gazing at him with wide eyes. “You need to be in the land of the living, not here.”

 

“But you want me here,” Dean said, arching an eyebrow and making Cas falter. 

 

“I- Yes, of course, I do,” Cas admitted, eyebrows drawing together. “But I want you to be happy, safe, and alive even more than that.”

 

“We can figure out how to get you back, right?” Dean said, frowning as he glanced around the dark nothingness again, and after so many times, it seemed darker somehow.

 

“I don't know,” Cas replied. 

 

“I can't just leave you here, Cas. You don't belong in this darkness, this emptiness-” Dean cut himself off, stiffening. 

 

“Dean, it's not a choice-”

 

“Cas,” Dean barked, and stared up into the bleak nothingness, “shut up.”

 

“I- Excuse me?” Cas retorted, clearly surprised. 

 

“Empty,” Dean breathed out, swiveling in a full circle and staring at Cas in excitement, his lips splitting into a grin. “Cas, I know where you are!”

 

“Where?” Cas asked automatically, immediately serious. 

 

“The Empty, Cas. You're in the Empty,” Dean told him, waving a hand around and racking his brain on what information he had on it. “Uh, Billie threatened to throw me and Sam in here. She has said that it was nothingness, that it was, uh, something no one could come back from.”

 

“I know nothing of it,” Cas admitted. “It has to be before I existed.”

 

“But you said it was alive, right?” Dean blurted out, walking a few steps away and looking around. “Have you tried talking to it or something?”

 

“I've been a bit preoccupied,” Cas said, sarcasm falling through the cracks. 

 

“Well,” Dean chuckled, amused, “try it.”

 

“Um,” Cas muttered, looking around, his eyebrows crinkling. “Hello?”

 

“No, Cas,” Dean huffed, fighting a full blown laugh. “Do something, I don't know, angel-like. Just do something worthy of its attention.”

 

Cas shot him an unimpressed look before turning all the way around and walking farther in the darkness. Dean didn't follow, just watched as the glowing of Cas’ eyes flared up against the curtain of blackness. 

 

Dean cleared his throat when Cas said a word that had to have been Enochian, a firm commanding sound, lacking vowels, pouring through the room, reminding Dean of some sort of rhythmic growl. Why was that so hot? 

 

“It appears that I'm not worthy of its attention,” Cas announced, turning around to look at Dean.

 

Fuck, he was ridiculously gorgeous, his eyes wide and bright, his lips plump and formed into a slight pout. Why was he pouting? Dean fought against an onslaught of thoughts that were taking him to a place that Cas was not at yet. Cas seemed to sense he was having a moment and cocked his head to the side, squinting at Dean in confusion. 

 

And yep, that was all Dean could take. 

 

“Shit,” Dean cursed, striding over to Cas and reaching out to grab his face in his hands, tugging him close in one smooth motion. “You're worthy of mine.”

 

Cas blinked up at him owlishly, innocently, and Dean gave a breathless laugh before leaning in and kissing Cas for the second time. 

 

Dean worried Cas wasn't going to get with the program, but that fear was quickly squashed when Cas’ left leg hooked behind his right and  _ kicked, _ and Dean was abruptly falling, only caught by Cas’ hold on him as he lowered him to the void that was the floor. Dean blinked rapidly, dazed by the sudden change in position, but Cas just dipped down and continued the kiss.  

 

Dean shifted in surprise when Cas tossed his leg over Dean's hip and straddled him, pressing his whole body against Dean's, lining them up perfectly. Which, yeah, that was good, and Dean was more than definitely on board. Just one thing, though. 

 

“Um, Cas,” Dean panted, his eyes fluttering as he realized that Cas was shifting his hips minutely, starting up an achingly slow drag of bodies. 

 

“Yes, Dean?” Cas growled out, his lips immediately finding skin to suck on after he finished talking. 

 

“Just, uh,” Dean mumbled, unconsciously arching up against Cas and swallowing thickly at the suddenness of it all, “are we gonna fuck in the Empty?”

 

Cas froze, going completely still for a moment before slowly lifting his torso off of Dean. He still straddled Dean and his hands rested against his thighs. Cas frowned down at him, his eyebrows crinkled, and his head tilted. Dean focused on his tie and tried to calm the fuck down. 

 

“I don't want to... _ fuck,  _ Dean,” Cas told him. 

 

“I- Oh,” Dean choked out, shocked that the word had just left Cas’ mouth. “Yeah, I guess we should've talked about it at least. I mean, I understand if you don't want sex. We can-”

 

“Dean,” Cas interrupted, reaching down and placing his hand over Dean's mouth, his hand light and his fingers spread, “sex is not an issue. Fucking is. I don't want to just  _ fuck,  _ if you get what I'm insinuating. Meaning, I hope I mean more to you than a quick sexual encounter.” 

 

“Cas, that's not- no. I would  _ never,  _ not with you,” Dean said, his voice muffled by Cas’ hand, eyes bulging at the mere thought of Cas just being a quick lay.

 

“Oh,” Cas said softly, lifting his hand and blinking down at Dean. “Then...do you want to have sex in the Empty? I do not mind either way.”

 

“I, uh, Cas, I think I'm gonna have to pass, man. I shouldn't have even kissed you. I mean, I wanted to, obviously, but we have to figure out how to get you home so there can be  _ more _ kissing, and maybe sex in a freaking bed.”

 

“Okay, Dean.”

 

With that, Cas hopped off of Dean in one fluid motion and fuck, if that wasn't the hottest thing Dean had seen all year, he'd eat his boot. Dean huffed out a laugh filled with relief as he realized he could do that, could think those things freely about Cas. 

 

It was never being bisexual that was the issue because Dean had his gay panic moment years ago. He just never felt the need to come out to anyone, mostly because John would have killed him, and also because no one had ever asked. Well, Charlie had, and she was the first person he'd told. That was a strange conversation to have in the middle of seemingly endless hordes of zombies coming after them, but Charlie just  _ had  _ to know. 

 

But when it came to Cas, the avoidance had started up probably five minutes after Dean had met Cas. His immediate thought was _ ‘he’s hot’ _ , followed quickly by a stab, and then all of that was swallowed with fear at the thought of him  _ actually  _ being an angel. 

 

As soon as it became blatantly clear that Cas was truly an angel, a permanent block had formed in his brain that forcefully kept all thoughts of Cas in an inappropriate manner out. Dean had been to hell once already, thank you much, and he already felt as if he was fucking up Cas’ whole life. 

 

Which, in a sense, he had. 

 

The problems had started when Dean's thought stopped being sexual, turning into something much softer and much more impossible than just sex. Wanting a life with Cas, aching for companionship farther than just friendship, letting his life slowly open up and pull Cas in as a sudden member of his family, as someone who was always in the back of his mind?

 

Yeah, Dean hadn't planned on that. 

 

Cas was his best friend, was family. Suddenly feeling too much for him was something that Dean could not afford himself. So Dean ignored it. He avoided it at all cost and deflected when it got too close. He pushed it so far away he hadn't even been aware of it. And for that, Dean lost Cas and never got a chance.  

 

“Cas,” Dean said softly, slowly standing up and stepping close to Cas to peer at him very seriously, “I am so sorry, man.”

 

“For what?” Cas asked, confusion twisting to life on his face. 

 

“I never- Cas, I never did right by you when you were alive. We should've been more. I just mean, I'm sorry I didn't realize what I had until you were gone.”

 

“Dean, it's not entirely your fault. I never even tried. I didn't think that you would want this or that I even earned it. And yet, here we are.”

 

“Here we are,” Dean agreed softly, staring into the abyss. “And you should be at home with me. I'm going to figure out how to get you back, okay?”

 

“Dean,” Cas said, a warning in his voice, “I don't want-”

 

“Just one more time,” Dean pleaded, shoving close to Cas in a rush and reaching up to cradle his face. “Cas, I can do it. Just one more time, okay?”

 

“Dean,” Cas murmured warily. 

 

A yawn broke through Dean's next words and exhaustion slammed into him like a Mac Truck. He swayed, and Cas reached out to catch him, a yawn stretching across his face as well. 

 

Dean could feel it, could sense the sleep dragging him out and away from Cas. Panic tightened its grip on him, and Dean fought it, trying desperately to keep his eyes open. Cas shushed him and leaned over to kiss him gently, making Dean's eyes flicker shut. Sleep gripped him, and he barely managed to hear the words Cas breathed against his lips. 

 

“Just once more.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

“Why the fuck would you-” 

 

“Sam, I'm  _ sorry,  _ I didn't mean-” 

 

“But you did, Jack!” 

 

“Dean said-” 

 

“I don't care what Dean said!” 

 

Dean groaned and opened his eyes, the ceiling blurry as he gazed up at it. His body was stiff and sore as hell, but Dean was mostly concerned with the raging headache he had going on. It was the worst one he'd ever had. 

 

“Sammy,” Dean croaked out, lifting his hand weakly and waving it in the direction of where the arguing had come from. 

 

“Dean!” Sam burst out and entered Dean's line of vision, his face screwed up in worry. 

 

“Shhhh,” Dean shushed him, blinking up at him and pulling a finger to his lips. 

 

“Are you alright?” Sam asked, his voice automatically getting softer. 

 

“Headache,” Dean explained. “M’tired.” 

 

“Okay, just stay here,” Sam murmured and stood up from where he was leaning over Dean to talk to him. “I'll get some Advil.” 

 

Dean grunted and waved him off, blinking slowly as he left. There was silence, and Dean was surprised when Jack leaned over him, looking ashamed and as if he was about to cry. Dean frowned up at him, worry starting to crank up within him at the sight. 

 

“You okay, kid?” Dean asked. 

 

“I thought you were- You were gone, Dean. I sent you there and you were-” 

 

Jack's words shuttered off, and he lowered to settle himself beside Dean, his head bowing as his emotions apparently became too much. Dean realized that Jack really was crying, and he frowned harder, his hand reaching up to rest on Jack's head. Dean let his fingers crawl through his hair as his heart squeezed. 

 

“S’okay, Jack,” Dean told him softly. “I'm here.”

 

“I thought you were dead. Sam said you weren't breathing. I thought- Dean, I thought I'd killed you,” Jack stuttered out, his words hiccuping out of him as he just broke down. “I'm so sorry, Dean, I'm so sorry.” 

 

“Hey, hey,” Dean whispered, ignoring the pain and forcing himself to sit up, gritting his teeth as he moved, letting out a slow breath when he settled. “You didn't kill me. I'm breathing now, see? You wouldn't kill me, Jack; you're too good of a kid to do that.” 

 

Jack didn't respond, just pressed his forehead into the mattress and cried harder. Dean just brushed his hand over his hair, frowning at the display. He couldn't believe he had wanted to kill Jack at one point. The Jack sobbing at the thought of killing Dean didn't match up to the Jack he'd originally been in Dean's mind. 

 

“Dean.” 

 

Dean's head jerked up as Sam appeared in the doorway. He took in the scene before him and slowly entered the room, his lips tipping down at the corners. Dean met his gaze, and they shared a look that said all there needed to be said about the moment. 

 

“Jack,” Sam said softly, passing Dean his medicine and a glass of water before kneeling down to press a hand against Jack's shoulder, “Dean's going to take his medicine and probably get some rest, then he'll be fine, okay? Why don't you go clean your face? I'll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.”

 

Jack lifted his head and met Dean's gaze, his eyes wet and his cheeks tearstained. Dean gave him a nod and dropped his hand, smiling weakly in encouragement when Jack gave one sniff and stood up. He nodded at them both and then rushed from the room, no doubt embarrassed by his crying. 

 

“Well, crisis averted,” Dean joked, meeting Sam's suddenly pissed off gaze. “We're great parents, heh?” 

 

“Do not joke about this, Dean,” Sam snapped, crossing his arms and pacing beside the bed, his face twisted in anger. “You scared the shit out of us. You were asleep for three hours when Jack came and got me, frantic with worry that he'd fucking killed you.” 

 

“Three hours?” Dean muttered. “I was only with Cas for maybe an hour and a half.” 

 

“Yeah, well, you were out for three. And then, you stopped freaking breathing. Why the fuck did you make Jack send you back?” Sam snapped, throwing his hands up and stopped pacing as he glared straight at Dean. 

 

“I- I needed to see Cas,” Dean stuttered out, feeling guilt crawl through him. “I just-” 

 

“You almost  _ died! _ ” Sam shouted, pointing a shaking finger at Dean. “Do you not get that? Dean,  _ Cas is dead.  _ He's gone, and he's  _ not _ coming back. Me and Jack? We're here, we're alive, and we need you. You can't be alive just to die for him! Jack and I deserve better than that, and so do you!” 

 

“Sammy,” Dean croaked out, his eyes closing as a tear escaped and made a path down his cheek, “I  _ love  _ him.” 

 

“I know,” Sam said, his words still strong, but his face was softer when Dean's eyes flew open at his easy declaration. “I've always known, Dean. And he loves you as well. But Dean, he's gone, okay? He wouldn't want this for you. You can't do this anymore. I'm asking you not to. It's time for you to let him go.” 

 

“Okay, Sammy,” Dean breathed out, letting out a shaky breath and blinking rapidly. 

 

“You need to rest now,” Sam sighed and pushed his hands through his hair. 

 

Dean swallowed and looked at his brother, regret pushing through him as he really took a second to just  _ look.  _

 

Sam was tired, his hair limp, exhaustion clinging to his eyes. Tension sat on his shoulders like it was meant to be there, and his hands were shaking from either not eating or being overwhelmed for too long. 

 

All because Dean didn't know how to stop. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Dean told him, and Sam pressed his lips into a thin line. 

 

“Me too.” 

 

Dean didn't know what to say to that, and Sam didn't seem to care to listen. He turned to leave, and Dean watched him walk out, shame taking over. Fuck, he was a failure. If he'd just found out where Cas was from the beginning, none of the bullshit would be coming to bite him in the ass. But he didn't, and he was dealing with it. 

 

“Billie,” Dean whispered. 

 

“Dean,” Billie greeted coolly, suddenly at the foot of his bed, her hands crossed in front of her. 

 

“I need your help,” Dean told her, and she smirked at him, shaking her head. 

 

“This is about your angel,” Billie murmured, slowly walking around the bed. “Why am I not surprised? You Winchesters and your inherent need to  _ save  _ things.” 

 

“Why is he in the Empty and not heaven?” Dean asked, shifting so he was sitting higher. 

 

“Because he is an angel,” Billie told him simply, turning around and walking over to examine the pictures lining his dresser. 

 

“Exactly. So, why is he-” 

 

“The Empty is where all angels and reapers go when they've been  _ permanently _ killed. We have no heaven or hell, just nothingness when our job is done.” 

 

“Is that where he went when he died before?” 

 

“Probably. I'm sure his father just plucked him right out as he pleased.” 

 

“So, why didn't he this time?” Dean asked, his voice cracking with confusion and dread. 

 

“Because,” Billie said, turning to him with a look that told him he already knew her answer and he wasn't going to like it, “it was Castiel’s time.” 

 

“No,” Dean whispered, shaking his head. 

 

“Everyone has a clock, Dean,” Billie said, no sympathy in her tone. “They all run out at one point. See, not many get to just set it back when it's up. It seems to me that little function finally ran out for him.” 

 

“But his job's not done,” Dean protested, shaking his head at her. “It's- it can't be.” 

 

“It  _ is, _ ” Billie told him, cocking her head. “And you need to accept that, or else you will be joining him. You've been running up your clock here a lot lately, Dean. You might want to be careful because you no longer have that function that brings you back, not with  _ me. _ ” 

 

“Billie, I'm  _ begging _ you,” Dean pleaded, shoving the covers away and scrambling farther down the bed, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain that shot through him. “Please help me.” 

 

“There's nothing I can do, even if I would,” Billie told him, shrugging. “Something's just are.” 

 

“What about a deal?” Dean suggested desperately, stumbling to his feet. 

 

“I'm Death, Dean,” Billie said. “I don't make deals anymore. And even if I did, you Winchesters tend not to keep up your end.” 

 

“I will,” Dean swore, taking a few wobbly steps towards her, cringing through the stabs of pain shooting up his legs. “Take me instead.” 

 

“Dean,” Billie sighed, pity flooding into her face for the first time, making all the breath in Dean escape him because that coming from her meant that there was nothing to be done. “I cannot do anything for you or your angel. He's gone. Just let him sleep now.” 

 

“ _ Please, _ ” Dean begged, but she was already gone. “Billie! Get back here!  _ BILLIE! _ ”

 

But she wasn't coming back, and all Dean had to look at was the picture of him and Cas on the dresser, their smiling faces mocking him. Pain rushed through him, and Dean's knees buckled. He fell to the floor in a heap. 

 

Dean laid there, feeling his world crash and burn around him, and he realized that the last thing he'd told Cas was that he was coming back, that they'd be home together soon. It was a lie. It was all a lie. 

 

Dean mustered up enough strength to curl in on himself, and then all fight left him as pain of all kinds crowded in, bringing tears to his eyes before setting them free. 

 

The pain of losing Cas  _ again _ hurt the worst.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, come on, you big idiot.” 

 

Dean grunted as his head flopped to the side and he cracked his eyes open, glaring at the image of Sam leaning over him. He didn't offer help as Sam hoisted him up and got his arms around him, choosing instead to stay limp in his hold. Sam dragged him over to the bed and practically threw him on it, blowing out a breath. He shook his head at Dean's defiant look. 

 

“I was fine where I was,” Dean huffed, scooting up against his pillows, delighted to find that it hurt less after rest. 

 

“Yeah, because lying sprawled out on the floor is the most comfortable place to be,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Shuddup,” Dean mumbled, pursing his lips as he watched Sam reach out and grab a chair, swiveling it to sit in it backwards with his arms braced on the top. 

 

“Dean,” Sam sighed, focusing his gaze on Dean with intensity, “you need to give me the poison for Jack.” 

 

“What?” Dean blurted, his head snapping up to gape at Sam in surprise. 

 

“The poison,” Sam repeated flatly. “The one you planned on using to kill Jack.” 

 

“Sam, I wouldn't-” 

 

“I don't want to hear it, Dean. Just give it to me.” 

 

“Sam, you have to understand. Me and Jack had our little moment, alright?” Dean said seriously, swallowing thickly. “I'm not- The kid isn't going to die. You can trust me.” 

 

“No,” Sam snapped, a hand flying up to sweep across the air at Dean, “I  _ can't _ trust you, Dean. You've been lying to me and using Jack for  _ months.  _ I wasn't sure what all happened when your little revenge plot stopped, but now, I do. You used Jack to get to Cas, and then suddenly, he didn't need to be put down.” 

 

“That's not true,” Dean said, shaking his head and clenching the sheets in his fists. “At first, yes, I was just using him, but Sam, it's not like that.  _ I'm  _ not like that, okay?” 

 

“Look, I chalked it up to grief with your obsession to kill Jack. And when you finally cooled it, I just assumed you'd started moving on and getting better. But Dean, you didn't make any progress, man. Instead, you became a freaking addict.” 

 

“An addict? What the fuck does that mean?” 

 

“Exactly what it sounds like. Cas was your drug, and Jack was your enabler. He didn't know any better, and you couldn't stop. It's why you wouldn't tell me because deep down, you knew you needed help, and you  _ knew _ I wouldn't let you keep hurting yourself.” 

 

“I wasn't  _ addicted  _ to Cas, alright?” 

 

“You weren't? So, you didn't look forward to the next moment you were going to see him every single second of every day? You didn't feel amazing for a little while after seeing him, only for you to go back to feeling like shit after a little bit? You didn't run back to Jack the moment something minuscule happened with the sudden need to see Cas? You didn't manipulate everyone around you, including a freaking  _ child,  _ just to see Cas just  _ one more time? _ ” 

 

Dean opened his mouth, a rebuttal perched on his lips, and out of nowhere, he found himself slamming it shut. Something twisted in his chest and he felt his heart drop to his stomach, a short dive that felt like devastation. Holy fucking shit, Sam was right. 

 

“I didn't- I don't understand.” 

 

“I know,” Sam said calmly, his eyes stupidly soft, despite the situation. “It's okay, Dean. You loved-  _ love  _ him, and you found out too late. It's normal to regret not having that while he was here. So, you got high off the chance of having it despite that.  _ I understand. _ ” 

 

“I didn't know, Sammy,” Dean breathed out, his eyes itching with fresh tears that he fought to not let fall. “I swear I didn't know.” 

 

“I know you didn't,” Sam reassured him, a small self-deprecating smile curling his lips before vanishing. “I hadn't either, with Ruby, you know. It just- it just kinda happened and became too much. I was addicted to something evil, something I thought was good, and I didn't even know it, so I'm not blaming you. But Dean, when I needed it, you helped me, even when I didn't deserve it, even when I wasn't sure I was worth helping. So now, it's my turn to help you.” 

 

“Sammy,” Dean croaked, the tears slipping out no matter how much it hurt, “I have to go back. I  _ have _ to, just one more time.” 

 

“If I asked you to go grab me a fresh demon to feed off of, would you do it?” Sam asked him, his eyebrows dipping close together. 

 

“That's different,” Dean told him, closing his eyes and letting his head thunk against the wall.

 

“How? It was killing me, and this is killing you. One more time could be your last.” 

 

“It's  _ Cas. _ ” 

 

“I know. Fuck, I know, Dean. He's my family too, my brother. It hurts, I know it does, and I want nothing more than for him to be here. But it's not that simple anymore.” 

 

“I can get him back. I know I can.” 

 

“Do you have a solid answer?” Sam asked, and Dean's eyes popped open with hope. “You got a plan that  _ won't _ fall through? Something that will bring Cas back and won't result in anyone else dying? Do you know  _ for sure? _ ” 

 

“I- I- Yes, Sam,” Dean stuttered, his heart picking up in his chest. “You have to let me go back. I know how to get him back.” 

 

“Alright,” Sam said, and Dean's heart soared in his chest before falling as Sam continued, “tell me, and I'll go in and grab him.” 

 

Dean didn't have anything to say, didn't even have an answer to give him. Sam waited, and after Dean swallowed and averted his eyes, the chair scraped back as Sam stood. Dean looked up to meet his gaze, barely refraining from flinching at the sight of so much pity. 

 

“I just need to see him,” Dean whispered, blinking up at Sam. “I promised him.” 

 

“I'm sorry, Dean,” Sam told him, and truly was, his sympathy plain in his face. “I've already informed Jack that he can't send you back, and I'll go in and visit Cas to let him know everything that happened. But it's over now.” 

 

“I'm going to figure out how to get him back. I  _ will, _ ” Dean swore, determination clear in his voice. “We're going to get him back, Sam.” 

 

“For now,” Sam said, sighing heavily, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, weighing him down, “you need more rest.” 

 

“I need to-” 

 

“Sleep, Dean. You need to sleep. I'll be back for the poison tomorrow morning.” 

 

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Sam just frowned at him and shook his head. Dean blinked, feeling oddly as if he'd just been scolded by a parent. Sam didn't give him enough time to work through that strange moment, just walking out of the room. 

 

Dean heaved a sigh, scooting farther down in the bed, and closed his eyes. Exhaustion immediately settled in him, and he figured Sam might've been right. Maybe he  _ did  _ need to sleep. After all, withdrawal was gonna be a bitch. Dean cracked a smile that fell away before it could fully form, a strange feeling falling into place in his mind. 

 

An addict. 

 

Dean was a fucking addict. More than just drinking, and more than just sex. No, this was his life he was toying around with. And he knew Sam was right, that he really was addicted because the thought of never seeing Cas again, of never joining him in the Empty, scared him worse than hell had. 

 

He marvelled at the irony of it all. Hell was what brought Cas into his life, and hell was what his life was without Cas in it. 

 

When Dean fell asleep his dreams took him to a different kind of hell, a kind where he searched for Cas relentlessly and never found him, his screams for Cas going unanswered, his ever growing panic causing physical pain. 

 

Dean searched anyway. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now things are starting to get a bit complicated...

Cas opened his eyes, looking around for Dean as he stood up. Instead of Dean, Cas’ eyes fell to Sam, and he blinked in surprise. 

 

“Sam?” He asked, moving over to greet him with a smile and a short hug. 

 

“Hey, Cas,” Sam murmured warmly, his arms coming around to give him a gentle squeeze that conveyed affection. “It's good to see you, man. It's been, uh, awhile.” 

 

“For you,” Cas told him. “For me? It's only been about an accumulative of nine hours since I last saw you, and most of those hours were taken up by Dean. And Jack, once.” 

 

“Well, for me, it's been some months,” Sam sighed, giving him a small smile. “You're a sight for sore eyes, I'll tell you that.” 

 

“Did Dean finally talk to you about all of this? Jack had mentioned that Dean didn't want you to know. I kept telling him to involve you in all of this,” Cas said, shaking his head. 

 

“Cas,” Sam murmured slowly, swallowing thickly, and Cas frowned at the trickle of worry that flowed through him, “Dean almost didn't make it back last time, and Jack freaked out and came clean to me about all of it.” 

 

“Is he alright?” Cas blurted out, that trickle of worry turning into a full on waterfall. 

 

“He's fine,” Sam assured him quickly, reaching out to pat his arm. “But uh, I don't think he will make it a second time. He can't come back.” 

 

Cas felt disappointment wash over him, despite already preparing himself for it. Not seeing Dean ever again? It felt wrong and unfair, but he already suspected it would happen. Frowning, Cas nodded at Sam and averted his gaze. 

 

“I understand,” Cas murmured. 

 

“Cas, um,” Sam said, clearly thinking about his words carefully before he said them, “Dean's not doing too hot right now, and to be honest with you, I doubt he will be for awhile. He, uh, really started depending on these visits and without them, I'm worried he won't be okay for awhile after it. But I think he would want you to know that he loves you and always will.” 

 

Cas closed his eyes tightly, swallowing thickly. A rush of emotion took him over, and he felt his face crumble. Why did it have to be permanent this go around? There was still so much to do. So much to teach Jack, so much to talk about with Sam, so much to explore with Dean. 

 

It wasn't  _ fair.  _

 

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas whispered, his eyes still closed. “Will you- Can you please return the sentiment? I would appreciate it.” 

 

“Of course,” Sam replied softly. 

 

The moment, so tender and melancholic, was broken by Sam's wide yawn. He blinked in surprise, no doubt shocked by how tired he suddenly was. Cas felt fear creep through him for the first time since Lucifer had stepped on that lawn and demanded his son. Sam stared at him and blinked slowly, his eyes staying shut a little longer each time. Cas fought against his own yawn, refusing to let his eyelids drop. 

 

Sam blinked one last time and he fell, his body tipping quickly, but was gone before he even hit the ground. Exhaustion tugged at Cas, but he started pacing, digging his hands into each other and pushing all of his grace at the exhaustion, batting it away. 

 

Cas was scared, truly scared. He didn't want to go to sleep and never wake up again, never see the people he loved again. He could feel eternal sleep tugging at his life, coaxing him into something every part of him seemed to scream out for. However, Cas wasn't having it. His eyes lit up the darkness as his grace hummed beneath his skin, shoving all the exhaustion away and holding it off. 

 

“ _ No, _ ” Cas bellowed, gazing out at the thick darkness with bright, glowing eyes. 

 

Abruptly, the darkness seemed to settle and all exhaustion fell from him. Cas’ eyes dimmed and he relaxed, blinking in slight surprise. He hadn't expected that to work, in truth. Slowly, Cas turned around and came to an abrupt halt. 

 

“What did you just say?” 

 

Cas was staring at  _ himself? _ Except, Cas knew it wasn't him, could feel the ancient power leaking off the being as he stood there, eyes blazing in anger and mouth pressed into a thin line. And Cas knew that the thing standing before him was the personification of the dark, emptiness surrounding him. 

 

“Why do you look like me?” Cas asked, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head. 

 

“I needed to speak with you,” The being said, crossing his arms and tutting. “You have been giving me  _ a lot  _ of trouble here lately, Castiel. I must say, at first, when your pet human came to visit, it was kind of sweet. But now, you're just getting on my nerves.” 

 

“I need to leave,” Cas said, walking forward and staring at the thing, the  _ Empty,  _ seriously. 

 

“Leave?” The Empty chuckled, his voice old and cultured, a high pitched thing that sounded vaguely like a jester. “No one  _ leaves  _ me. What you need is to go to sleep.  _ I  _ need my sleep.” 

 

“Well,” Cas murmured, tilting his head and letting out a slow breath, “you aren't getting any more sleep as long as I'm here. In fact, I'm done sleeping. So send me home.” 

 

“This is not how it works!” The Empty cried, lifting a hand and pinching the bridge of his nose. “When your father and I made a deal, he granted me eternal rest as long as I held the creatures he wanted here. I was pleased, you see, because before there was you and your fellow angels and even your father, there was  _ me.  _ I was tired of just being, and God offered a quick fix. You are ruining that!” 

 

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” Cas muttered sarcastically, tilting his head. “Am I interrupting your nap? A simple angel, messing up your sleep schedule. I'm not worth the trouble, am I?” 

 

The Empty glared at him, and Cas smirked, aware that he was acting a lot like Dean and not regretting it for a second. If annoying a cosmic being was going to free him, Cas would do everything in his power to channel all annoying aspects of everyone and everything he knew just to get home. The Empty seemed to sense that, his eyes narrowing on Cas and his lips thinning out. 

 

“I need my sleep,” The Empty said simply and snapped his fingers. 

 

Cas’ eyes rolled back in his head and he felt himself fall back, pain exploding behind his temple. The last thing he saw was the Empty huffing in annoyance and walking away.

 

* * *

 

Sam's phone rang right around the time he was starting to feel less queasy after visiting Cas. Jack looked over at him briefly before averting his gaze, shame and despair still on his shoulders. Sam sighed and picked up his phone, his eyes still caught on Jack. 

 

“Hello?” Sam murmured. 

 

“Sam.” 

 

A bolt of shock shot through him and Sam jolted up in his seat, making Jack look over in curiosity. Sam, not sure he wasn't going insane, didn't say anything for a moment. But slowly, he gathered enough of himself to let his lips stumble out the next word. 

 

“Cas?”

 

“Yes, it's me,” Cas told him, sounding relieved. 

 

Jack stood up, his face relaying his surprise, his eyes wide and filled with hope. Sam threw out a hand, making him pause, shaking his head minutely. It couldn't be Cas,  _ couldn't be.  _ It may sound like him, but it could've been yet another trick thrown his way to mock him. 

 

“How can I be sure?” Sam asked tightly. 

 

“Sam,” Cas growled out, clearly annoyed with Sam's precaution, “we just spoke seconds ago. You visited me in the Empty. You told me that Dean was not well and that he loved me. Trust me, Sam, you can be sure.  _ It's me. _ ” 

 

Something cracked in Sam's chest, and he was on his feet in a second, his free hand reaching out to grab up the keys to Baby. Jack stepped forward, shadowing Sam's flailing and Sam waved a hand at him frantically. 

 

“Where are you?” Sam barked, pacing in his spot, itching to go. “I'm coming to get you.” 

 

“I'm standing outside a diner in Omaha, just three hours from Lebanon. We've been here before,” Cas told him. 

 

“I know where you are,” Sam said eagerly, taking long strides towards the garage. “I will see you in about three hours.” 

 

“Okay,” Cas murmured, letting out a quiet sigh.

 

Sam muttered a quick goodbye and pocketed his phone. Jack made a small noise from behind him, and Sam whirled around, swallowing at the sight of Jack looking so nervous, so hopeful. 

 

“Cas is back,” Sam said quickly. “I'm not sure how, but I'm going to get him.”

 

“Can I come?” Jack asked, blinking up at him and fidgeting in place. 

 

“No, you've got to stay here with Dean. When he's awake, I need you to tell him what's happening and make sure he doesn't leave. We'll be back in six or seven hours, okay?” 

 

“Are we sure it's him?” 

 

“He knows something only Cas would know so I'm aiming for yeah. If it's not,” Sam paused, pursing his lips and fiddling with the keys, averting his eyes, “I'll deal with it. But if I'm not back within eight hours, then something is wrong. Jack, if that's the case, I need you to do something for me, okay?” 

 

“Sam, I'm not sure I should be doing anything at all right now,” Jack whispered, holding up his hands like they were defective. 

 

“It's not anything with your powers, okay? I just- Promise me you'll keep Dean in check. He's in a tough spot right now and if it's not what we're hoping it is, I need him to keep it together.” 

 

“Dean doesn't listen to me.” 

 

“Look at me, Jack,” Sam insisted, his voice serious and strong. “ _ Make  _ him listen.” 

 

“I'll try,” Jack mumbled, nodding slightly. 

 

“But don't worry,” Sam reassured him, reaching out to draw him into a quick hug. “It's Cas. We'll be back soon, and everything will be fine.” 

 

“Promise?” Jack asked softly, his words muffled into Sam's shoulder, such a childlike demand that had Sam's heart squeezing. 

 

“I promise.” 

 

Sam let Jack go and squeezed his shoulder before rushing off to the garage. Jack swallowed and looked down, feeling a sense of foreboding fall through him. 

 

But no, Sam had promised. 

 

* * *

 

“Sam!”

 

Cas waved a hand, and Sam sailed out of Baby, his hair flying out in the wind as he rushed forward. Cas was swept up in a tight hug, their arms wrapping around each other. Sam held him for a moment, his arms squeezing, before he clapped his back and pulled away while clearing his throat. Cas looked up into his face, noting his misty eyes. 

 

“Hey, buddy,” Sam greeted, his lips trembling around a smile. “S’good to see ya.”

 

“I’m happy to see you as well, Sam,” Cas told him honestly. 

 

“Dean is going to be ecstatic, man, you have no idea.”

 

“You said he is not doing well right now?”

 

“Well, he hasn't been doing well at all since you, uh...died, to be perfectly honest with you, Cas,” Sam admitted, scratching the back of his neck. 

 

“I could tell when he visited,” Cas murmured, looking down in shame. “I should've made him stop sooner. It wasn't good for him, but- but, I missed him.”

 

“Hey, it's not your fault,” Sam said quickly, reaching out to squeeze his trench coat covered shoulder. “It's not anyone’s fault. It's been tough without you for all of us.”

 

“How is Jack?” Cas asked, his head jerking up. “When I asked Dean, he didn't want to talk about it. He blamed Jack for my death, pointlessly.”

 

“Er,” Sam muttered awkwardly, not wanting to reveal just how deep Dean's hatred went for Jack before they finally bonded, “Jack is fine. I'm teaching him. He claims you as his real dad, you know.”

 

“He does?” Cas breathed out, eyes widening in shock and something like hope. 

 

“Yeah, he thought you were at first. I had to tell him because Dean flipped out. Like I said, Dean wasn't in the best spot,” Sam explained softly. 

 

“Did Dean ever hurt Jack?”

 

Sam swallowed thickly and looked out at the impala. His mind went over Jack telling him of the vial Dean had acquired. The vial that could kill Jack. He thought about how long Dean had held onto it, thought about how Dean had stared up at him with wide eyes full of regret, promising he wouldn't hurt Jack. He thought about the anger and inherent need for revenge that had shined in Dean's eyes in the beginning, so like their father, and how Sam had thought, had hoped, that Dean had finally just moved on when it slowly faded. 

 

It was almost too painful to think about. The grief that had hung over Dean like the world’s heaviest coat was still fresh in his mind, the empty eyes and unsure hands. Dean hadn't known what to do with himself and he hadn't been able to understand why he'd felt so much. Sam knew, he'd always known, but there wasn't anything he could say. 

 

Sam loved Dean, always would, and Cas too, but he couldn't hide Dean's misgivings towards Jack in the beginning, not when Cas needed to know how deep it had gone. 

 

“Dean was going to kill Jack,” Sam murmured, swinging his gaze back on Cas. “He went out and found some kind of poison to make Jack human for a few moments. He was going to slip it to Jack and shoot him. I don't know how or when, but Dean had it for a long time before Jack finally told me about it. Dean never used it, even though he hated Jack.”

 

“Does Dean still have it?” Cas asked quietly. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you- Is he trustworthy?”

 

“Right now?” Sam began slowly, blowing out a deep breath. “Dean isn't trustworthy in any situation. I don't know how to put this easy, Cas, but Dean got hooked on you, man. He, uh, manipulated Jack into letting him see you. He lied to me constantly, from the very beginning. Dean didn't stop, couldn't, because he didn't know how to let you go.”

 

“He's not okay mentally, is he?” Cas croaked out, his eyes falling shut with the knowledge of Sam's answer before Sam even opened his mouth to reply. 

 

“No,” Sam whispered sadly, “he's not.”

 

“Will it make it worse if I return?” Cas murmured, his mouth barely moving as he hung his head. 

 

“What?” Sam blurted, a jolt of shock making him jerk. “Jesus, Cas, it won't make it  _ worse.  _ Dean's been a wreck because you're gone. With you back, he's going to struggle, but it will help him heal a lot. This is going to make him better, I promise.”

 

“I want to see him and Jack,” Cas announced, looking up hopefully. “If I'm allowed back, then I want to see them. I want to come home.”

 

“Of course, Cas,” Sam sighed, reaching out to pull him into another hug. “Let’s get you home, then. We need you back.”

 

Cas smiled up at him as they broke apart, his grace thrumming within him with love for Sam Winchester, his brother and friend. They turned in unison, heading towards the car, before they came to an abrupt halt. Sam and Cas both shared a look after appraising the three angels standing between them and Baby.

 

“Sam,” Cas said in warning, the absence of his angel blade a sudden problem. 

 

“Cas,” Sam replied shortly, swallowing as he broadened his stance. 

 

“You have anything?” Cas asked shortly. 

 

“Just one angel blade,” Sam told him. 

 

“We will make do,” Cas sighed. 

 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, falling into step beside Cas as they advanced on their opponents. “We are going home.  _ Now.” _

 

Sam’s words were punctuated by Cas whirling into a fight with the angel on his left. Sam focused on the one on the right, swinging the angel blade down in a high arc. A kick to his abdomen sent him stumbling and the blade fell to the ground. The angel smiled at him, a smug curl of lips, and Sam dived for the blade. He grasped it just as the angel descended on him and he twirled it up, using the angel’s momentum to shove it forward into the angel’s face. 

 

Sam closed his eyes as the light poured from the vessel’s mouth and eye sockets. He barely had time to blink before the blade was being yanked from him and he was tugged to his feet roughly. Sam blinked at Cas, his mouth tight and eyes brighter than normal as he stood with a dead angel at his feet. The angel blade dug into his throat, and Sam swallowed when he realized what had just happened. 

 

“Let him go,” Cas commanded, his voice strong and demanding. 

 

“Come with me or I kill your precious human,” The angel said flatly, not even bothered to be the last standing amongst his dead brethren. 

 

“ _ Let him go, _ ” Cas repeated, his words a menacing hiss. 

 

“Surrender now, or he dies,” The angel retorted and twisted his wrist in an obvious threat, making Cas go very still. 

 

“Cas,” Sam murmured gently, “just- just go. Get in Baby and-”

 

“Fine,” Cas cut him off, standing up straight and holding his hands out in a clear sign of surrender. “Just let him go, and I will come with you.”

 

“Good,” The angel said and waved his free hand. “Come here, and I will let him go.”

 

Cas nodded slowly and stepped forward, his stride careful just in case. Sam’s jaw jumped as he tried to get Cas to meet his gaze. It was no use; Cas had his gaze firmly on the angel. Finally, Cas made it close enough and paused, waiting for the angel to let Sam go. Instead, Sam felt himself tipping forward as the angel dropped the blade and lunged out to grasp Cas with his free hand while still holding Sam. 

 

There was a flutter of wings and the three men disappeared, leaving Baby sitting there, her door slowly closing from a nonexistent wind. The door shut, and Baby sat still, refusing to move until someone she knew showed up to help. 

 

Stressing as a car does, Baby waited for Dean. 


	17. Chapter 17

At exactly eight hours after Sam had left, Jack made his way to Dean’s room. 

 

Sam had not called or texted, and Jack felt his stomach curling in itself. It was a strange feeling, something he'd only felt once before when Dean had showed him the vial in his drunken state. Jack fought it, sure that Dean could do something. 

 

“Dean,” Jack called out, knocking on Dean’s door, slightly concerned that Dean hadn't came out of the room at least once, “are you awake?”

 

“Yeah, kid,” Dean called back. “Just woke up a little bit ago. Come in.”

 

“Okay,” Jack responded weakly, walking in slowly.

 

Jack saw Dean fully dressed, making his bed and wearing his beloved boots. Dean glanced up at him, his face soft in a way that still surprised Jack. 

 

In the beginning, Dean had been nothing but cold and harsh with him, but Jack had remembered the things Castiel had whispered to him while he'd been in the womb. Dean was a good man, no doubt about it, but he'd been in major pain. Now? Now, he looked at Jack with warmth, with softness, a certain protectiveness in his gaze, just like Sam, but still, he was in pain. 

 

“You okay, kid?” Dean asked, concern taking over his face. 

 

“I’m not sure,” Jack answered honestly, swallowing thickly. 

 

“What's wrong?” Dean blurted, standing up straight. “What happened?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Jack repeated, looking up as Dean stepped closer. 

 

“Jack,” Dean said forcefully, “spit it out. What’s up?”

 

“Sam went to find Castiel and he hasn't been home in a few hours,” Jack blurted, his fingers coming together as he fiddled with his own hands. 

 

“Sam’s in the empty?” Dean yelled, starting to move forward before he froze as Jack shook his head. “He's not in the empty? But you said he went to find Cas.”

 

“Castiel isn't in the Empty anymore, Dean,” Jack whispered, watching as Dean's face slowly morphed into shock, hope, and worry. “He’s alive. He called Sam, and Sam went to go get him. He said if he wasn't back within eight hours, then something was wrong. It has been eight hours and nine minutes. Something is wrong.”

 

Dean stared at him for a few moments, seemingly rooted to the spot, and Jack was honestly worried that he wasn't ever going to move again. But a tremor went through Dean, and he sat down on his newly made bed, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. 

 

“Jack,” Dean whispered, his fingers shaking as they passed over his chin, “where- where did Sam go to pick up Cas?”

 

“A diner in Omaha, just three hours from here. Apparently, you all have been there before,” Jack said. 

 

Dean stood up swiftly, eyes unfocused, and murmured, “Okay, Jack, this is what we are going to do.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“We are going to get in a car and we are going to go check out the diner. We are going to keep calm and we are going to work this like a case. We are going to get Sam and your father back, okay? We are going to do this.”

 

“Okay, Dean,” Jack murmured. 

 

“Good, good,” Dean croaked, blinking around his room. “Go pack a bag. I’m gonna gather some weapons and try to call Sam. Meet me in the garage in ten minutes.”

 

Jack just nodded, relief flooding through him. Dean was being surprisingly calm, and Jack was thankful for it because he felt everything besides that. Jack left the room, going to do as Dean ordered, but he paused when he heard a wet crackled exhale through the door. Jack’s eyes widened as he realized that Dean was sobbing, a mournful sound that portrayed relief, hope, fear, and pure agony. 

 

Swallowing thickly and ignoring the way his eyes reacted to the sound, Jack put his head down and went to do as he was told.

 

* * *

 

The diner was closed, but as they turned in, Dean caught sight of his car parked in the back. Hoping with everything in his soul, Dean pulled the busted up van - he and Sam had stolen it a few years ago - around the back. But Baby was empty with no one in sight. 

 

“There’s Baby,” Jack murmured. 

 

“Come on, let’s switch over,” Dean said, shoving the van in park. “It's about time we desert this thing anyway.”

 

Jack and Dean moved out of the van and walked around the car, both coming to a halt at the two bodies lying on the ground, their eyes burned out. Dean stooped down, examining the bodies with meticulous care. He kept telling himself to treat it like a case, to work through it, and keep his emotions well in check. That was the only way he was going to get it done right. 

 

“What happened?” Jack whispered, his eyes wide with horror.

 

“Sam and Cas happened, I’m assuming,” Dean admitted, reaching out to pick up an abandoned angel blade. “There was obviously a tussle. Cas and Sam took these two out. Might’ve been more. Probably got taken somewhere.”

 

“So, what do we do now?” Jack murmured, his eyebrows drawing together as he stared at the bodies. “If they’re gone, how do we find them?”

 

“Well, Sam’s phone is still on,” Dean said, raising up and digging his phone out of his pocket, staring down at it, shielding it from the sun. “They were taken by angels, so I doubt they would’ve thought to disable the GPS on Sam’s phone.”

 

“We can track them?” Jack asked hopefully. 

 

“Yeah, Jack,” Dean breathed out, his face splitting into a grin as he got a location on Sam’s phone, “we can track them. Let’s go.”

 

“Okay,” Jack agreed, his eyes still firmly on the dead bodies. 

 

“Hey,” Dean said gently, moving over to steer Jack towards Baby. “Look, whatever Cas and Sam did, they had to do. Remember when we took out the vampires and angels attacked us? It’s the same thing, Jack.”

 

“I didn't see them,” Jack whispered, his voice cracking as he stared down at the door Dean had opened. “I didn't know that they- They look so  _ human. _ ”

 

“But they aren't, okay?” Dean insisted, staring at him with a frown. “They were trying to kill Sam and Cas, so they fought back. It was self defense.”

 

“I know. It’s just hard to see.”

 

“I know, kid, trust me, I know.”

 

Jack didn't respond, choosing to finally get in Baby. Dean rushed to his side and slid in, enjoying Baby’s purr as she cranked up. Dean glanced at his phone, not deterred that the location was two hours away. He'd get there in record time. 

 

Dean sped off, tearing up roads with an urgency thrumming in his veins. Jack was quiet for a while, and Dean couldn't focus enough to even listen to music. His thoughts were a constant loop of Cas and Sam, a strong desire to save them, to see them. 

 

“Dean,” Jack eventually spoke up, his voice small.

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked, peering down the road for his next turn. 

 

“Do you think they are going to be okay?” 

 

Dean glanced over at Jack, taking in his wide eyes, his child-like innocence. It made Dean’s heart squeeze, made his stomach fill with warmth. In that moment, Dean wanted to take Jack back to the bunker and keep him safe from harm, wanted to feed him and watch him grow, and damn it all to hell, Dean wanted to be there for him, to care for him, to love him. 

 

It was then that Dean realized what had happened. 

 

Without any prompting whatsoever, from anyone, Dean had grown to love Jack as family, as his own. It almost hurt to realize just how important Jack was to him. Jack stared up at him with an expression that looked just like Cas, and it no longer felt like a stab to his heart, only provided a moment of clarity and warmth. Dean swallowed thickly, suddenly fighting tears. 

 

“Jack,” Dean whispered, his voice rough from emotion, “they are going to be fine. There will probably be another fight, but everything is going to be fine. We are going to bring them both home, okay? I promise you.”

 

“Sam promised everything was going to be fine, too,” Jack told him, his lips pulling down into a frown, “but it's not. They’re gone, and it's not fine.”

 

“Okay,” Dean said, nodding and pressing his lips into a thin line. “So, maybe promising you things we don't know for sure isn't the best route. Noted. Fine, how about this? Even if they aren't okay, we are. So, if we get there and it doesn't go well, I promise that I will bring you home and we will keep on going. We’ll keep on doing those lessons every morning and we will keep on living. Alright, I know I haven't exactly showed it, but you always got a place with me.”

 

“Dean,” Jack murmured, his voice soft, “you would leave a death with Castiel and Sam just to keep me safe? Even if you would be in even more pain?”

 

“Kid,” Dean announced gruffly, casting his gaze towards the window, watching the stretch of fields go by, “a wise man once told me that family don't end with blood. That man was like a father to me, and he was right. You're family. There's not much I wouldn't do for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Jack said softly, his mouth curling up, clearly pleased at the declaration. “I hope you know that I think of you like I do Sam and Cas. You're my father too, Dean.” 

 

Dean gripped the steering wheel tight and tried not to let the lump in his throat strangle him. Whether or not Dean was ready for it, he was a father to Jack. It moved him, gave him a purpose that he hadn't felt since he'd searched for a way to kill Jack. 

 

“I know,” Dean mumbled, throwing a sincere look at Jack. “And I'm gonna be a better dad than mine ever was.  _ That _ I can promise you.” 

 

Jack smiled, and Dean vowed to himself to uphold his words. 

 

The rest of the ride was silent, their conversation still sitting between them. It finally evaporated when they pulled up to the warehouse that claimed to have Sam's phone in it. 

 

“Why would they be here?” Jack asked in confusion. 

 

“First rule of hunting,” Dean murmured, cutting Baby off, “it's  _ always  _ warehouses. Always.” 

 

“That's not comforting,” Jack muttered, wrinkling his nose. 

 

“No, it's not,” Dean agreed, chuckling as he climbed out. “Come on, let's go check it out.” 

 

“Dean, what if I can't use my powers to help if things go bad?” Jack murmured as they headed towards the big bay doors on the side. 

 

“Then, you can't,” Dean replied simply, leading them to the door. “Just do your best not to get hurt, okay? Run, if you have to. Don't stay if it gets too bad.” 

 

“If it gets too bad, you'll run too, won't you?” Jack asked warily. “You won't leave me alone?” 

 

“I promised, didn't I?” Dean asked, turning to raise his eyebrows at Jack, only continuing when he nodded. “Okay, now come on. Stay quiet.” 

 

Dean led them into the door, crouched low and silent. There were endless piles of metal scraps, and Dean ducked low behind them, locating voices almost immediately. He edged around, eyes landing on two angels standing beside a chair that held a unconscious Sam. He was strapped down, his head sagging to the side. 

 

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line and turned back to Jack, reaching in his coat and pulling out an angel blade. Jack stared at it with wide eyes before looking up at Dean with undiluted fear. 

 

“For protection,” Dean whispered almost silently. “Stay here.” 

 

Jack took it, and Dean hurried behind the two angels, still crouched low and silent. They were laughing now, one of them leaned over Sam and tugging on his hair to wake him up. 

 

“Wha…” Sam garbled, blinking around bearily and immediately jerking from the angel, tugging against the straps holding him in the chair. 

 

“Don't struggle, Winchester,” The angel laughed. “No use in that.” 

 

Sam opened his mouth, defiance clear on his face, but he slammed it shut when Dean stood up smoothly. Sam blinked at the angel, his tugging ceasing and his worry erasing from his face. The angel must've looked confused because Sam smiled widely, a cruel promise of something dark. 

 

Dean kicked out, sweeping the angel off his feet and whirling to stab the other one in a quick move. Sam clenched his eyes closed, and the other angel hopped to his feet, meeting the angel blade that Dean shoved into him. 

 

There was quiet, and Dean bent down to cut Sam loose. Sam watched him, and once one hand was free, he started helping Dean with the rest. Once fully free, Sam and Dean held each other's gaze, having a conversation with their eyes as only brothers could do. 

 

“You good?” Dean asked, looking him over for any injuries. 

 

“I'm fine,” Sam reassured him. 

 

“Cas?” Dean asked, keeping his voice level just barely. 

 

“They took him upstairs. Jack?” 

 

“Behind that metal pile over there. Stay with him. I'll be back.” 

 

“Dean, no,” Sam huffed, rubbing his wrists and frowning, “I'm coming with you. There's something really weird going on here, okay?” 

 

“Jack needs you more,” Dean said. 

 

“I'm coming with you.”

 

Jack stepped from behind the metal scraps, and they both turned to stare at him after his statement. He stood tall, his eyes steadily on them . But for all his posturing, the kid was shaking, full body trembles making it obvious he was scared. 

 

“Jack,” Dean started softly. 

 

“No,” Jack snapped, cutting him off sharply, the very first harsh thing he’d ever said. “Stop treating me like a child. I'm going with you both.” 

 

“Jack, you are a child,” Sam sighed, throwing a look at Dean.

 

“After the conversation we had in the car, you got me fucked up if you think I'm letting you go in there,” Dean told him unapologetically. 

 

“I'm more powerful than both of you,” Jack hissed forcefully. “You can't stop me, okay? Besides, that's my father in there. We can't split up.” 

 

Dean and Sam locked eyes, their lips both turning down with disapproval. Truth be told, the kid had a point. Sam pursed his lips, and Dean heaved a sigh, turning his gaze back to Jack. He met Jack's hardened hazel eyes and gave a slow nod, feeling his chest tighten with worry. 

 

“Alright,” Dean whispered, “but you stay close to us, and don't engage unless absolutely necessary.” 

 

“Okay,” Jack murmured, suddenly back to curling in on himself, and he swallowed thickly, gripping the angel blade tighter in his hands. “Let's go, then.” 

 

They started up the stairs, their steps quiet with Sam taking the lead. He led them across a small bridge and towards a back office. As they got closer, a hoarse shout pierced the air that Dean recognized immediately. 

 

All pretenses of treating it like a regular case flew out of the window as Dean shoved Sam out of the way and sprinted towards the office. He faintly heard Jack and Sam take off after him, but he didn't care, Cas’ shout echoing through his mind. He'd heard it clearly, heard the pain and fear in it, and nothing else mattered. 

 

Dean burst through the door, the handle burying itself in the wall as he rushed in the room. The sight before him had him coming to an abrupt halt, nearly tripping from the suddenness of it and the shock coursing through him. Sam and Jack came to a halt behind him, both gasping at what they were all staring at. 

 

Cas was strung up, his hand chained to a rusted hook, and his shirt was ripped open. There was a strange symbol carved into his chest, blood dripping from the wound. And a man that everyone knew - except Jack - stood off to the side, holding a knife and wearing a big smile. 

 

“Cas,” Dean choked out, taking a step forward, freezing when the man stepped forward and cut his own hand. 

 

“Now Dean, don't come any closer or it's over for your poor Castiel.” 

 

Dean swallowed thickly and reached back, curling his hand around Jack's wrist. He realized what was happening, realized what was at stake. Jack's fingers gripped his hand, and Dean's heart broke in his chest. 

 

_ ‘It wasn't supposed to happen like this’.  _

 

“Dean,” Cas croaked out, “ _ go. _ ” 

 

And he knew. He knew what Cas was saying. He was asking Dean to let him go, to finally make that choice. Dean stared at him, gazed into his eyes, and everyone seemed to hold their breath to see what he'd do. 

 

The thought of leaving Cas, of letting him die, of letting him go for real, of making that fucking choice, was like walking into hell willingly. It was unthinkable, impossible, not fucking  _ fair, _ and Dean couldn't do it. 

 

He couldn't fucking do it. 

 

As Jack squeezed his hand, Dean felt his fight crumble. Tears clouded his eyes, blurring his vision, making Cas go foggy. He blinked, letting the tears fall letting Cas see them, letting him see what they meant. 

 

Dean knew what he had to do, and he did it, shoving Jack and Sam back, forcing them back through the door with all his might. Cas smiled, and Dean turned around, ushering Sam and Jack out. 

 

“Go, go!” Dean shouted, throwing them forward, preparing to run. 

 

The door slammed shut, and Dean nearly busted his nose against it. Jack and Sam shouted from the other side as Cas moaned in defeat. Dean clenched his jaw and dipped his head, swallowing as he turned around. 

 

“Where do you think you're going, Dean? Especially with  _ my son. _ ”

 

Dean didn't even look at Lucifer, choosing instead to stare at Cas. He had tried, he really did, but it was almost a relief to not have to leave Cas. If he was going to die, he'd rather it be like that, with Cas in his line of sight. 

 

“Dean, you promised,” Jack whimpered from the other side, and that had Dean clenching his fists, the tragedy of the situation bearing against his chest and making it hard to breath. 

 

“DEAN!” Sam yelled, desperation clinging tightly to his voice. 

 

Sam pounded on the other side of the door, and Dean heard Jack faintly attempting to try to use his power to get through the door. Dean was already coming to terms that he wouldn't live to see the door open again. 

 

“I'm going to kill you,” Lucifer told Cas calmly, his voice low and deceptively soft, “then I'm going to kill the one you love. Or, maybe I should make you watch me kill him first. What do you think, Castiel? Who will it hurt more?”

 

“Don't,” Cas groaned, his head lifting with great effort. “Lucifer, do not harm him. Kill me, and let him go.” 

 

“No,” Dean breathed out, taking a few steps forward, “I can't do it, Cas. I can't watch you die again.” 

 

“Well, look at you,” Lucifer chuckled, tutting and shaking his head. “You're both so sickeningly needy. It's ridiculous. As it is, I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm going to kill you both, wear Sam like a nice suit, and take my son. How does it feel to know that, hmm?” 

 

“Jack will never love you,” Dean stated flatly, certainty in his tone. “Never. Not after this. You're not his father.” 

 

“I am,” Lucifer retorted sharply, “and he  _ will _ see in time.” 

 

“DEAN!” Jack screamed, pure fear in the rawness of his voice. 

 

Dean closed his eyes, his heart stuttering in his chest. He realized that it was over. He couldn't protect Jack, couldn't save Cas, couldn't help Sam. He'd failed at  _ everything.  _

 

Lucifer was smiling when he opened his eyes, and he slowly twirled a finger. Dean doubled over in pain, a shout ripping from his lips as agony raced to every nerve-ending. Cas’ shouts mixed with his, and black spots entered Dean's vision as he stumbled back. Everything went cloudy, and he heard a screech, something like metal being warped, and all the pain he felt took over, dragging him under. 

 

The last thing he saw was Cas. 


	18. Chapter 18

“Pass me the pizza, jerk!”

 

Dean laughed and tossed the box over with his free hand. His other hand was linked through Cas’, their fingers intertwined. Sam grinned and opened the box, his hair longer than Dean remembered. 

 

“I want another slice,” Jack announced, attempting to reach over Sam and get what he wanted. 

 

“No, you've had four already,” Sam huffed, swatting his hand. “Jesus, Jack, you really don't need another.” 

 

“Aww, come on, Sammy,” Dean teased, throwing a smile at Cas. “What's one more? Let the kid eat.” 

 

“See?” Jack chuckled. “Dean said I could have another slice.” 

 

“Or...” Cas spoke up, amusement clear in his tone, “you could eat a slice of pie that Dean made earlier.” 

 

“See, this is why,” Dean hummed, looking at Cas with joy. “This is why I love you, man. You're literally the smartest person I know.” 

 

“Shall I go grab it?” Cas asked, arching an eyebrow as he stood. 

 

“Mhm,” Dean hummed, eyes tracking Cas as he leaned closer. 

 

“I'll be right back,” Cas promised, and then they were kissing. 

 

Dean curled into it, a strange desperation taking him over. He wasn't sure why he suddenly feared letting Cas leave, but he reached out and held him close, pressing their lips together so tightly it almost hurt. Cas hummed into it and when he pulled away, he was smiling a bit. 

 

“Oh, get a room, you two,” Sam teased as Cas went into the kitchen. 

 

“Shuddup,” Dean mumbled, fighting a blush, confused at his sudden embarrassment. 

 

He and Cas had been doing that for years. Hadn't they? 

 

Something didn't feel right, and Dean watched in confusion as Jack tore into another slice of pizza, winking at Dean like they were sharing a secret. Sam stood up and headed towards the kitchen, not saying anything. 

 

“Sam,” Dean called, panic gripping him for seemingly no reason at all. 

 

“What?” Sam asked, pausing in the doorway, his eyebrows drawing close together in question. 

 

“I- I don't know,” Dean murmured, frowning down at the table. 

 

“Okay,” Sam snorted, drawing out the word before rolling his eyes and disappearing into the kitchen. 

 

“Pizza is amazing,” Jack announced, clearly pleased with the slice he was almost finished with. 

 

“Yeah?” Dean chuckled. “Wait till you try my pie. Cas should've been back with it by now.” 

 

“I'll go get him,” Jack offered, standing up before Dean could stop him. “He's probably struggling with cutting it.” 

 

Dean watched as Jack left, the door swinging closed on his back. Then, there was utter silence, not a sound coming from behind the door. A sense of dread crawled up Dean's spine and he slowly stood, his mouth going dry with the worry scraping across his mind. 

 

Slowly, he walked over to the kitchen door, reaching out and pushing it open with shaky hands. He entered and noticed the silence immediately. 

 

“Cas?” Dean called out, stepping into the kitchen and looking around. “Sam? Jack?” 

 

There was no reply. 

 

There was nothing. 

 

Dean was alone, and he looked around in disbelief, not understanding. His hands were clammy and he wiped them on his jeans. Something was wrong, and nothing felt right. They were gone, and Dean wasn't sure how he'd gotten there, wasn't sure what the fuck was going on. 

 

And Dean's eyes connected with his favorite mug, Cas’ mug with the bee on it, and his heart dropped. It wasn't broken, not even one crack in it. Just like that, Dean remembered, and he sucked in a sharp breath as his body tipped back, gravity yanking him back to the land of the living. 

**__**

* * *

 

Dean woke to a solid body beside him. Slowly, he cracked his eyes open and glanced around his room in surprise, adrenaline rushing through him and making him sit up. 

 

“Dean, it's alright.”

 

Dean turned back to Cas, his head whipping around in surprise. He no longer looked wounded or in pain, and there was no darkness surrounding him. It was real. He was there, alive and breathing, and Dean lost his grip on whatever restraint had kept him back for that long. 

 

Cas caught him as Dean launched himself at him and kissed him, their lips connecting with a shared moan. Cas’ hands wrapped around him as Dean practically crawled right on top of him, his fingers clamping down on the sides of Cas’ stubbly face. 

 

The kiss was desperate in its entirety, and Dean let his tongue sweep across Cas’ bottom lip, enjoying the way Cas scrambled to sit up and get some kind of control on things. Dean wasn't having it, continuing to push into Cas’ space and pull moans from his lips. 

 

“Cas,” Dean, honest to god, crooned when he finally yanked away. 

 

“It's okay, Dean, it's okay,” Cas promised, his hands gentle and his words a vow. “I'm okay.” 

 

Dean whimpered and shoved his head into Cas’ neck, squeezing his eyes closed. It was perfect and everything he wanted, everything he needed, and Dean was scared as fuck. It hurt just how much he loved having Cas beside him, underneath him,  _ alive.  _

 

“Please,” Dean croaked out, begging shamelessly, barely registering what he was saying. “Please don't leave me again. Please don't.” 

 

“Okay, Dean,” Cas whispered, running his fingers through Dean's hair. “Shh, it's okay. I promise I won't. I'm here.” 

 

“Sam?” Dean managed to garble out, his fingers so tight around Cas’ arms, like he could keep him there and never let him go again. “Jack?” 

 

“They're fine. We're all fine. It's okay, Dean,” Cas assured him gently. 

 

“I'm scared,” Dean admitted. 

 

“I know,” Cas replied. “Me too.” 

 

“I- I can't do it again, Cas. Any of it. You all mean too much to me.” 

 

“Hey, it's going to be fine. We are all going to be fine. Just rest now.” 

 

“I don't want to go to sleep,” Dean whispered, and Cas sighed. 

 

“That's what you keep saying.”

 

Dean was about to lift his head to ask what Cas meant when cool fingers brushed against his temple and sleep tugged him under gently. 


	19. Chapter 19

The next time Dean opened his eyes, he was alone. He was still for a moment, his eyes peering around his empty bedroom, before panic gripped him and forced him from his bed. Dean rushed from the room, rounding the corner to the war room at breakneck speeds, nearly skidding when he froze in the doorway. 

 

Jack, Sam, and Cas all looked up at him in surprise. They were just sitting there, playing cards, like no big deal. Dean leaned against the doorway and fucking lost it, his laughter echoing uproariously into the room. 

 

“Dean!” Sam shouted, standing up and wearing an expression of concern. 

 

“M’fine,” Dean managed, his laughter building before catching in his throat. 

 

“Are you sure?” Cas asked, frowning at his haphazard appearance. 

 

“I- I'm not sure,” Dean answered honestly, blinking around. “Is this real? Am I- Is this- What happened?” 

 

“Lucifer was killing you,” Sam explained, putting his cards face down and moving around the table. “Jack, uh, got upset.  _ Really _ upset and he managed to get the door down with his powers. Sent Lucifer flying. I got Cas off the hook, and Jack went right over to Lucifer and just- well, he, uh-”

 

“I stabbed him,” Jack interrupted, turning to look at Dean seriously. “I killed him with the angel blade. Sam says it shouldn't have worked, but Cas thinks it had to do with my powers.”

 

“He's gone?” Dean whispered in surprise. “Seriously?” 

 

“Yes,” Cas murmured. “His wings are still burned into the ground.” 

 

“Billie!” Dean yelled out, and he jumped when she appeared right in front of him.

 

“Yes?” Billie asked, arching an eyebrow at him. 

 

“Lucifer,” Dean stated flatly. “He's dead for real? Like, forever?” 

 

“He is dead for real,” Billie murmured and her gaze flickered over to Cas, her lips tipping down in a frown. “But...as you're well aware, not everything is always forever. Better hope this one sticks this time, Dean.” 

 

And that was it. She was gone, just like that. But it was enough for now. Lucifer was dead and gone, and Dean sagged against the door frame, all his breath escaping him in a rush.  

 

“How long have I been out?” Dean asked, looking around at his family. 

 

“Couple of days,” Sam answered, shrugging. “You almost died. Figured you could use the rest.” 

 

Dean sighed. “Well, now I'm hungry.”

 

“Chili's in the kitchen,” Sam said easily, turning to start that way. “I'll get you some. Jack helped me make it.” 

 

“No!” Dean burst out, surging forward and making everyone freeze as he clamped a hand on Sam's shoulder and held him still. “Don't leave.” 

 

“Uh,” Sam muttered, flicking his gaze over to Cas in confusion, “I don't understand. You're hungry, right?” 

 

“Yes, but- Just, don't leave, okay? None of you,” Dean whispered, averting his eyes in shame. 

 

“Dean,” Cas said slowly, “we're not going anywhere, okay? This is real, and we are here. Let Sam go. He will come back, I promise.” 

 

“I can go,” Jack offered, looking unsure, and Dean's panic only got worse. 

 

“No,” Dean snapped, shoving Sam towards the table. “No one leaves. We stay together, alright?” 

 

“Dean,” Sam started softly. 

 

“ _ No, _ ” Dean cut him off, his breath escaping him quicker than he could take in more air. “Not now.” 

 

“Okay,” Sam murmured, his eyes full of pity as he slowly moved to sit back in his seat, his cards forgotten. 

 

Dean didn't say anything, just moved to sit at the end of the table where he could see all of them. After a few moments of awkward silence, they resumed their card game. Dean watched silently, easing into the comfort of his family being near him. 

 

They stayed that way all night, sharing laughs and talking of everything but bad memories, and eventually Dean fell asleep to the sounds of his stomach growling and his family living. 

 

For now, it was enough.

 

* * *

 

It was enough for approximately two hours of the following day.

 

Then, the questions came. 

 

Dean and Sam settled around the long table, watching with vague interest as Jack and Cas played cards. Dean was settled beside Jack, eyeing his cards and occasionally whispering him advice. Sam had seen his help and immediately sided with Cas, shooting smirks every time Jack lagged farther behind. 

 

When Dean suggested Jack a particular hand and he managed to pay out at least twenty more points, Sam let out a long hiss of annoyance. Cas, for his part, just looked up at Dean with a frown. Jack's wide smile left Dean with no regrets, despite the other's reactions. 

 

“That's cheating,” Cas announced in a way Dean would describe as bitchy if he was bold enough, and he slapped down a card with a loud huff. “Jack, do not be misguided by him.” 

 

“Sam's helping you,” Jack replied sweetly, his mouth turning up at the corners. 

 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean agreed, batting his eyelashes playfully, “Sam's helping you. I mean, he's helping you lose, but still.” 

 

“Shut up,” Sam huffed, eyes narrowed as he scanned Cas’ cards. “Who dealt? Your hand is shit, Cas. I'm not the reason your losing.” 

 

Dean and Jack delved into laughter, victory a mere glimpse in their future. Somehow, despite that, Cas came out on top, managing to gather more points than Jack. Sam roared in delight and shoved his hands in the air, leaning back in his chair while spinning in pure joy. Dean huffed and sat back in his seat, slumping down in denial. Jack didn't seem deterred by his loss, and Cas just smirked as he gathered all the cards back up. 

 

They played a few more hands with equal amusement and relaxation drifting between them. Eventually though, Jack decided to pick up a book, Sam got on his laptop, and Cas leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. That was approximately around the time that Dean was assaulted with  _ questions.  _

 

“How did Lucifer even get back?” 

 

The easy atmosphere shattered, and Dean was left to regret the question as Cas’ head snapped up, Jack’s book tumbled from his hands, and Sam's hand froze over his keyboard. They all stared at each other, the question hanging between them heavily until all eyes shifted to Cas. 

 

Unfortunate as it was, Cas would be the only one who knew. 

 

“He managed to acquire the particular ingredients he needed to create a portal for a short amount of time,” Cas answered quietly, swallowing thickly. 

 

“Did he mention what they were?” Sam asked softly, his words halting and slow. 

 

Fear - as much as it hurt to admit - was undeniable in Sam's features. Despite the fact that Lucifer was dead and gone, Sam still faced horror at the thought of him. 

 

It made Dean's skin crawl, made him itch to go out and put a stop to whatever had Sam so scared, like checking in the closet for monsters when he was young, despite knowing that monsters were real and they sure as hell didn't live in closets. Usually. 

 

“Angel grace, a Prophet's sacrifice, and blood spilt of a brother,” Cas rattled off robotically, speaking flatly, his eyes wide and distant. 

 

“Who did he...kill?” Jack murmured. 

 

“He stole Zachariah’s grace and slaughtered him. He said that it was ridiculously easy to do so. He collected the blood from Michael. He said that was slightly harder. As for the prophet…” Cas paused and looked up at Dean, his eyes sad, “he took Kevin's tongue.”

 

“Fuck,” Dean choked out, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. “ _ Fuck. _ ” 

 

“Did he say anything about mom?” Sam asked, his throat bobbing as he looked upon Cas with frightful hope. 

 

As Cas lifted his gaze, Dean knew what the answer would be. It was in the tension around his mouth, in the quiver in his lips. The bright shine of tears in his eyes was all the answer Dean needed. Despite already knowing the verdict, it still hurt to hear. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Cas whispered, his gaze dropping in shame as if he'd landed the final blow that took Mary out. “I won't go into details, but-” 

 

“No,” Sam cut him off, blinking rapidly and shaking his head. “Don't. Just...don't.” 

 

“Was there anything we could've done?” Dean croaked, his throat raw from the lump there. 

 

“No one is at fault,” Cas said immediately, his lips ticking down. “There was nothing anyone could've done. Lucifer is -  _ was  _ \- a menace.” 

 

No one could argue that. In fact, no one could say much else at all. Silence stretched on, held between them, blanketing their interactions for a long time. 

 

A room full of grief, guilt, and pain pressed upon them. They didn't break it, just took it - true to Winchester fashion - and mourned the loss of those they loved, especially the mother they never truly got to know in the end. 

 

It was the worst memorial in all of history, but it was all they had, because they had nothing else, just a room full of memories and regret.

 

* * *

 

“You know, if you're going to keep us all together, you might as well talk about it.”

 

Dean was tempted to ignore Sam altogether, but he could feel the weight of his stare. They hadn't said much since the discovery of Mary's death, and now Sam was suggesting they should talk about  _ more  _ heavy shit?

 

Dean glared at Sam, eyes narrowed into accusing slits. Sam didn't look apologetic, didn't look as if he cared one iota about Dean’s discomfort. Sam arched an eyebrow in challenge, and Dean swung his gaze over to Cas for support.

 

“Maybe…” Cas started slowly, lips tipping down in a frown, “Sam has point, Dean. Maybe, we should  _ all  _ talk about it.”

 

“What is there to talk about?” Dean demanded, raising his eyebrows. 

 

“I killed my biological father.”

 

Silence reigned and all eyes turned to Jack. He was staring down at the tabletop, a faint look of disappointment on his face. 

 

Dean looked at Sam, and Sam looked at Cas, all of them at a loss. Truthfully, that was something they needed to talk about, something they should've already discussed with him, but none of them were the best with talking of any sort. 

 

“Alright,” Dean said, clearing his throat and sitting up, widening his eyes and jerking his head when Cas frowned at him. “We can talk about that if you want, Jack.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed gently. “Is there anything you want to say?”

 

“I think I'm a bad person,” Jack murmured, refusing to raise his gaze. 

 

“You're not a bad person,” Cas told him, his gravelly voice dropping a few octaves, turning into a soft croon. “You saved Dean and stopped a bad man. You're a hero, Jack.”

 

Dean swallowed thickly, eyes trained on the gentle expression on Cas’ face. Dean hadn't ever seen him look so careful before. It was strange, but it made his heart squeeze, made him think of his mom and even his dad on his good days, which were unfairly rare. 

 

“Like Dean?” Jack asked quietly. 

 

“Like Dean,” Cas confirmed, without missing a beat. 

 

Dean looked over to Sam, trying to avoid the feeling engulfing him. He felt like a fraud, like he didn't deserve their easy declarations of his supposed hero status. Dean wasn't a hero, far from it, actually, and he expected Sam to agree. Except, Sam obviously didn't. A look of  _ ‘hey, what can you do?’ _ was planted on Sam’s face, clearly agreeing with them, still managing to be defiant even in that. Dean heaved a sigh. 

 

“Jack, I'm not-”

 

“Why don't I feel like a hero?” Jack asked abruptly, cutting Dean off, and lifted his hand to press to the middle of his chest, fingers splayed. 

 

That was the clincher, the thing that got Dean to eat his words. Maybe that's what all parents did. They just took what their kids said and tried to live up to it, even if they weren't sure it was true, and turned it into a lesson when the time came. 

 

“Jack,” Dean started softly, “listen to me, okay? You all say I'm a hero, right? I don't  _ agree.  _ I don't think I'm anymore of a hero than Batman, but I think Cas is, and Sam is. I bet you they don't agree. The things about heroes is that they just do what's right, what's better in the end. They don't think that makes them a hero, but somehow, it does. We've all done things that didn't make us feel good, but it's what we had to do. That's all you did, you hear me? You took down a big bad, and you saved us. You did a good thing, even if it doesn't feel like it. Trust me, kid, you're a damn hero, okay?” 

 

Jack met Dean's gaze, tears visible in his eyes, and he managed a small nod. They held each other's gaze, the moment stretching and turning from strained to calm. Slowly, Jack relaxed and leaned back in his seat, his throat bobbing as he swiped at his eyes. 

 

Dean let out a small sigh of relief and looked over to Cas, going still with shock when he was met with the most beautiful look he'd ever seen from Cas. It was pride, clear and joyful, the way Bobby used to look when he spoke of his wife's pies. Dean found himself holding Cas’ gaze, something tangible forming between them and sparking to life. 

 

“Ahem,” Sam coughed, interrupting their tangible tension as it continued to grow between them. “I agree with Dean, Jack. I've been telling you from the beginning that you're a good kid, and you only continued to prove that by removing more evil from this world.” 

 

“You were scared of him,” Jack noted, staring at Sam in confusion, like Sam wouldn't dare do ever be afraid of anything. 

 

“I- I  _ am  _ scared of Lucifer. He's not only pure evil to his core, but he represents the worst parts of myself. Knowing that he's gone after facing him for so many years, it's truly a relief.” 

 

Jack looked down, openly melancholic. Dean chewed his bottom lip, his stomach churning at the thought of his little brother ever having to be scared of something. He wanted to eliminate anything that could ever cause Sam fear, always had, and he guessed that's why hunting became so important to him at first. 

 

“I know that he was bad and did bad things, but I can't help feeling as if I'm bad too. I killed both of my parents,” Jack admitted in a whisper, his words so quiet, yet so heavy, like he was trying to stuff too much between them and keep it there forever. 

 

“Kelly loved you,” Cas blurted out, nearly toppling out of his seat as he sat forward, staring at Jack earnestly. “You absolutely did  _ not  _ kill her, Jack. Lucifer did, in truth. He conned her, impregnated her under false pretenses, knowing her fate, and he felt no remorse for it. You did nothing wrong.” 

 

“I believe you,” Jack said softly, lifting kind eyes to stare at Cas. “I believe all of you. It's hard to accept, but I will try.” 

 

“S’okay, kid,” Dean assured him. “Sometimes it's not easy to accept the truth.” 

 

“Truth is simply dependant upon perspective, anyway,” Sam told him seriously, eyes twinkling as a smile tugged at his lips. “From our perspective, which clearly should be held with high regard, you're an awesome person who does and will do awesome things.” 

 

“If I'm like you three, I will,” Jack announced, suddenly back to being overly cheerful, a sweet smile lighting his face. 

 

Dean nearly  _ died.  _

 

“Don't try to be too much like us, kid. We have our flaws,” Dean said quickly. 

 

“Like what?” Sam asked, affronted. 

 

“We have obsessive natures, for one,” Dean rattled off, ticking off his fingers. 

 

“Like you with Castiel,” Jack suggested innocently, cutting off the rest of the flaws Dean was prepared to list off. 

 

“Er,” Sam managed to garble out awkwardly, eyes going wide, his body tensing with the obvious urge to flee from the conversation. 

 

Dean's mouth snapped shut and his eyes cut over to Cas, his fingers going limp. Blue eyes were already waiting for his gaze, wide and endless, peeling away the layers of his soul. Dean pursed his lips and pushed them from side to side, forcing himself to relax. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, never letting his gaze waver from Cas’ eyes. “Just like that.”

 

“That was incredibly unhealthy, Dean,” Cas finally spoke after a few moments of silence. 

 

“I know.” 

 

“You could've died _. _ ” 

 

“I  _ know. _ ”

 

Cas’ jaw clenched, and he averted his eyes, anger plain on his face. Dean wasn't apologetic in the least. He knew he was being obnoxious by being flippant with the subject of losing himself to the allure that was Cas, but he found himself truly not caring. It was Cas; what else was he supposed to do? 

 

“Castiel,” Jack said slowly, “I would like to apologize for all of...that. I shouldn't have-”

 

“ _ No, _ ” Dean cut him off sharply, sitting up and addressing the whole group. “Listen to me, I fucked up, okay? I know that. I manipulated all of you for my own personal gain. I wasn't ready to let Cas go, and it was unhealthy. I knew that, but I didn't know how to stop, didn't want to. No one is at fault here for what happened with me, but  _ me.  _ I've got my own fucked up shit, the kind that makes me careless with my own life, especially for people I love, but that's on me. No one needs to apologize but me. So, I'm really sorry for all the shit I caused, really fucking sorry for that part, but not for loving the way I do.” 

 

Everyone stared at him in complete silence, their bodies so still like they weren't even breathing. Dean dropped his eyes to the table and fought the raw feeling clawing at his chest, a stubborn alarm reminding him that he was vulnerable and he needed to get away. Choosing to stay, to meet their reactions head on, was harder than he thought it would be. 

 

“We all deal with grief in different ways,” Sam whispered. “Just, next time -  if there is ever a next time, and I really fucking hope there isn't - let us help you. Let someone help you."

 

“I wanted to,” Dean admitted, throwing a glance at Cas before quickly averting his eyes back to Sam. “I tried a couple of times, but then I'd just think of Cas. I'd think about him in that place, about him being gone, and I'd just... _ stop.  _ I couldn't help it, or myself.” 

 

Cas heaved a deep sigh, and Dean looked over at him, his throat bobbing as Cas’ head tipped back. Cas stared at the ceiling for a few moments, the tendons in his neck popping as his jaw worked in anger. A knot of unease spread through Dean's chest, and he looked down in shame, his stomach dropping. 

 

This was why he didn't talk about shit. 

 

“Dean,” Cas bit out, his head slowly lowering and his eyes practically blazing in anger, “I doubt I, or anyone ever, will be able to make you understand how important you are to this world, to us. It's quite possibly going to drive me insane.” 

 

“It's not about  _ me, _ ” Dean argued, bristling defensively. “It was -  _ is _ \- about you! Not your fault, no, but I did the shit I did for you. It was out of… Fuck, Cas, I did it for the right reasons, okay?” 

 

“It shouldn't have ever been an option,” Cas snapped, narrowing his eyes accusingly. 

 

“Don't you get it?” Dean bellowed, throwing his hands out. “You left and you weren't coming back! I didn't know how to handle that, man. I  _ couldn't. _ ”

 

Cas stood from the table abruptly, his hands curling into fists. Dean tensed in his seat, waiting for him to stomp off, and all his anger warped into anxiety.  _ ‘Cas can't leave, he can't, please don't leave, fuck’ _ . 

 

Taking a deep breath, Cas swiveled around and made his way to the large chair facing away from them across the room. Dean could still see him, but he was clearly separate from the conversation, from them. Weak with self-disgust, Dean looked over to Sam with a soft expression of regret. 

 

“This is why I don't  _ talk, _ ” Dean said. 

 

Sam looked between them, eyes skating across the space they had between them, and he pressed his lips together in a thin line. Jack made a weak sound in the back of his throat and pushed his chair back, propping his feet up on the table as he tucked himself down in his chair. He hadn't slept and was apparently able to do so every few days, so he took the opportunity to do so eagerly then, obviously needing to escape the tension. 

 

Sam offered Dean an awkward shrug, apologies balanced on his unsure shoulders, and he took a page from Jack's book. He curled up, putting his head down on the table and getting as comfortable as he could. Dean was tempted to smack him over the head, but he fought the urge, eyes staring at the long, slender fingers gripping the chair Cas sat in tightly, the anger still present. 

 

Dean watched those fingers for a long time, his mind entirely blank. Occasionally, the distant thought that all he knew how to do was ruin things crossed his mind, but Dean just batted it away, focusing his entire energy on memorizing the curl of those fingers. 

 

Even when soft snores were traded from Jack to Sam, some awkwardness and tension being replaced by sleep, Dean continued to stare. 

 

When those fingers finally relaxed, their grip loosening, Dean felt the tightness of his shoulders slowly seep out. Without much thought, Dean found himself standing and walking over to Cas’ chair silently. Once he was practically standing over Cas’ shoulder, he paused, his muscles locking up. 

 

Cas looked up, his neck curving deliciously as his eyes landed on Dean. He stared for a moment, eyes flicking over Dean's face, and Dean realized he had no idea what he was doing. However, knowing that he was clueless didn't stop him from leaning down and planting his lips over Cas’ mouth with gentle precision, a careful move. 

 

A nearly silent noise left Cas’ throat and he bent around in the chair, arching to stand up to face Dean without ever breaking their kiss. 

 

Vaguely, the thought of  _ ‘bendy' _ passed through his mind, but it was gone when Cas reached up to grip his chin roughly and tilt his head forcefully, delving into his mouth with heated determination. The sound came from Dean's mouth this time, and he folded closer, his fingers reaching out to grasp Cas’ coat. 

 

Needing something to hold onto, Dean was never more thankful for that fucking trNonchcoat than when Cas’ tongue dragged across his teasingly. Lips swollen and spit slicked, the kiss could only be classified as passionate, a demand in the precise drag of Cas’ lips. 

 

As Cas kissed him until his whole body trembled from the fog of arousal in his brain, Dean thought he understood, thought he figured it out. The kiss was control, a reminder that what Dean thought of himself, of what Dean thought of  _ Cas, _ didn't matter if he was dead. 

 

It reminded Dean of the time Cas beat the shit out of him and threw him into a brick wall, demanding that he get his shit together. Though, that could just be because both of the moments were incredibly hot and done things to his dick, but still. 

 

As Cas slowly pulled away, letting out a long breath and dropping his hand, Dean blinked rapidly and swayed in his spot. Cas flicked his gaze over Dean's shoulder, to make sure Sam and Jack were still asleep and once he was pleased with what he saw, he reached up to cradle Dean's cheek, a sudden look of adoration taking over his earlier anger. Dean was overwhelmed by it, feeling as if he was kicked in the chest by the look on Cas’ face. 

 

“Promise me,” Cas whispered softly, staring at Dean seriously. “Never lose yourself, Dean, even if you lose me.” 

 

Dean's struggled to breath around the lump in his throat. He could feel the pinch in his chest and the prickle of tears behind his eyes that told him he was about to get emotional again. He ignored it and focused on what Cas wanted from him, what he needed. Dean thought about losing Cas again, and his brain ran into a roadblock, the situation something he was unable to imagine. Despite that, Dean realized what he needed to do. 

 

“I promise,” Dean breathed. 

 

The shame he felt was drowned out by the pure relief on Cas’ face at his reply. Dropping his hand, Cas moved back and offered a small, almost shy smile, like he hadn't just kissed the fuck out of Dean. Dean stepped forward, already seeking more, and Cas just shook his head seriously. 

 

“Sleep now, Dean.” 

 

Dean ducked his head, embarrassed, and nodded. Cas moved forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and making Dean's heart practically melt, before taking his seat in the chair again. Dean followed suit, going back to his chair and settling down to sleep peacefully.

 

The next morning, they didn't mention it, but the tension was gone, nowhere to be found. 


	20. Chapter 20

The next few days passed that way, soft conversations floating between them, a promise of healing a deep wound. It was peaceful, almost, to talk about the things they spent time trying to ignore. 

 

Sam spoke of how hard it was to witness Cas and Dean being locked in a room with Lucifer. He talked about how hard it was to raise Jack alone at first, not sure what to do with Dean fighting him every step of the way. It had made it worse when dealing with having just lost Cas as well. Things had been tough on him, and Dean apologized to him for it. Sam even mentioned how much he missed Mary, how in the darkest of times, he wished she was still with them.

 

It took a lot of work and beating around the bush, but Dean managed to talk about some of the things that haunted him. He talked about hell, about how it had affected him after losing Cas, about how he still was scared to sleep sometimes. He explained it to Jack, what had happened to him in the past, and how he had met Cas. He told them how he felt robbed of his mother yet again, how he wished he'd given her more of a chance. When that became too heavy, Dean talked about the way Jack had changed him, slowly but surely becoming family and helping him heal, despite what happened. 

 

Jack talked about how scary things were in the beginning, about how he'd been scared of Dean, of dying, of not being good enough. He talked about how eager he was to get to know Cas, admitting that he felt at fault for Cas dying to begin with. He spoke of dreams he had, where green pastures stretched as far as the eyes could see, a beautiful blue sky draped across, peppered with fluffy clouds. It was his favorite dream, he told them, and he wished he could share it with him. 

 

Cas talked about the confusion and the disorientation. His words were halting and short as he spoke of Dean's constant visits, the whiplash of time always jerking him in too many directions. He told them about meeting the Empty, about how he'd been frightened to close his eyes and lose them all for good. He told them about the things Lucifer wanted, about how Lucifer had gathered angels who somehow hated the Winchesters, a nephilim, and Cas more than the devil. Though his scars were healed, he remembered every single wound and what Lucifer promised when he made them. 

 

The days dragged by sluggishly, a mess of tears and depressing anecdotes no one seemed to fight to escape. It was therapeutic, Dean realized after a few days of the talking. It became easier to breathe after a while, easier to face the things they'd been ignoring. Dean finally caved and admitted that talking was necessary, rolling his eyes when Sam smirked at him smugly. 

 

Eventually the talks tapered off into more gentle subjects, old stories of their pasts. Conversations full of Bobby and Charlie, a few mentions of Balthazar and Meg from Cas, and Dean didn't feel ashamed when he spoke good of Crowley. Once things eased, everyone expected Dean to be more accepting of them going their separate ways. 

 

Dean was  _ not.  _

 

When Sam had to use the bathroom, Dean forced everyone to follow and wait outside the door, listening closely to the sounds of Sam moving around while he kept his gaze on Jack and Cas. 

 

For a while, no one mentioned it. They either didn't have the heart to or didn't want to deal with Dean's wrath. Either way, they spent the next few days within each other's space. 

 

Until, of course, Sam couldn't take it anymore and he took a stand. 

 

“Okay,” Sam announced, throwing his book down and interrupting the silence without preamble. “I miss my bed. I miss my space. Dean, this has to stop, man. I need to be alone for a minute.”

 

Dean wanted to argue, but Sam didn't give him the choice. He got up, walked over, and leaned down to plant a kiss right on Dean's head, his lips making a ridiculous smacking sound. Dean went still with shock, not quite believing that Sam had just done that. 

 

“Uh,” Dean blurted out. 

 

“There,” Sam said and spread his hands out, “now things are awkward. I'm leaving. Goodnight.” 

 

With that, Sam turned around and left, his steps echoing back to them. Dean blinked in shock, and Jack huffed out a pleased laugh, clearly enjoying the show that was Dean's face. Cas offered him a smile, and Dean swallowed, looking at the doorway Sam had disappeared through. 

 

“He'll be here in the morning,” Cas promised sincerely. 

 

Truth be told, Dean wasn't as scared as he was before. It still had him gripping the chair tightly, but he could still breathe. He looked at Cas, eyes roaming over his sincere expression, and he slowly nodded, forcing himself to relax in the chair. 

 

“I know you both don't sleep, but if- Just, I understand if-”

 

“Dean,” Jack said sweetly, smiling at him, “one step at a time. We will stay with you tonight. Maybe tomorrow, I will go watch Scooby-Doo in my room.”

 

“You're a gift, kid,” Dean huffed, letting his head drop back in relief. “I want you to know that.”

 

“Thank you,” Jack replied simply, smiling. 

 

“Dean,” Cas hummed, his voice carefully crafted to bring some kind of sense of calm washing over Dean like fucking magic, “I wanted to ask you about something.”

 

“Yeah, shoot,” Dean replied easily. 

 

“Sam says that you spoke with Claire while I was...gone. I was just curious if she knew that I was back at all,”  Cas murmured and Dean’s head jerked up. 

 

“Shit. Cas, to be honest, the last time I talked to Claire was like a month ago. She checked in recently, but I never replied to her because I was a little preoccupied,” Dean admitted, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment as he thought about what exactly he had been preoccupied with. 

 

_ Cas.  _

 

“Who is Claire exactly?” Jack piped up, making Cas and Dean share a look. 

 

“Well,” Cas began, clearing his throat, “Claire is… My vessel’s name is Jimmy Novak. When I came down to earth, Jimmy allowed me to use his body to complete the work of God. As it was, I got slightly sidetracked and things stretched farther than I expected. You see, Jack, I wasn't originally meant to stay on Earth. But here I am. So Jimmy died and went to Heaven, and I continued to use his body. However, Jimmy Novak had a daughter. Her name is Claire Novak. Something came up that connected us again, and she became my ward.”

 

“So...” Jack muttered, his eyebrows crinkling as he processed the new information, “she is like your child, though she is not.”

 

“Yep,” Dean answered while Cas frowned at the suggestion. “Congrats, Jack, you got a big sister.”

 

Cas shot him a scathing look, and Dean grinned shamelessly, enjoying the position Cas had backed himself into. Cas’ face softened as he turned to look back at Jack, waiting for him to say something or react in anyway. Jack was too good of a kid to react in a negative way, Dean assumed, so he wasn't that worried about it.  

 

“I want to meet her,” Jack blurted out, sitting up in sudden excitement. “She’s close in my age, yes? Maybe she can be my friend.”

 

Which, when Jack said that, Dean absolutely  _ melted.  _

 

Dean had always wanted a kid, way back when he'd thought he could have one in his life, but he also learned very quickly that he couldn't raise a kid in his lifestyle. He'd thought, once before, that he'd had a daughter, and he'd been willing to lay his life down for her, willing to change everything and do it right whether she was a monster or not. 

 

Instead, Sam had to kill her, and Dean buried that dream pretty much right after. Ben was something he refused to touch on, refused to acknowledge in case of complete sorrow. 

 

But Jack was there, and he'd declared Dean a father figure alongside Sam and Cas, appointing him that mission, that purpose, whether he'd wanted it or not. In a way, Dean was almost thankful, even if it scared the shit out of him. So when Jack asked to meet Claire in hopes to having a friend, Dean almost turned into a puddle. 

 

Dean looked at Cas and watched him go through the same process. 

 

“I’m sure she would like that,” Cas managed weakly. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed gruffly. “I’ll call her and the rest of the ladies up tomorrow.”

 

“That sounds wonderful,” Jack said happily. 

 

Even with all the chaos that was sure to come from making those phone calls and having women overrun his home, Dean realized that he agreed. 


	21. Chapter 21

When the ladies showed up, it started out as a quiet affair. 

 

Jody and Donna had piled in, carrying bags wearily while Alex, Claire, and another figure followed in while bickering amongst themselves softly. Dean almost didn't notice the girl hovering behind them, one he didn't recognize, and he swung his gaze over to Jody in question. Jody just shook her head, her lips thinning out in unhappiness. 

 

All bickering stopped when Claire caught sight of Cas, her eyes freezing on his frame. Dean and everyone watched as tears formed in her eyes before she quickly ducked her head and rushed forward, slamming into Cas’ arms, hugging him tight. Cas, for his part, looked stunned by her uncharacteristic display of affection. 

 

But Dean understood. 

 

He ushered the rest of the tired girls from the room, and with the help of Sam and an overly eager Jack, the girls were assigned their rooms. No one really felt like sleeping until Claire and Cas made their reappearance, and they moved the reunion to the kitchen. 

 

“Long drive?” Dean teased, noting Donna’s tired smile. 

 

“You betcha,” Donna told him, bracing herself against the counter and crossing her arms, her accent curling in enthusiasm. “Jody and I took turns driving and keeping the girls calm.”

 

“We weren't  _ that  _ bad,” Alex huffed, rolling her eyes. 

 

“I beg to differ,” Jody snorted. “Between you teasing Claire and her trying to shove your face out the window, I was ready to shove you all out the damn car.”

 

“Speaking of girls,” Sam spoke up softly, eyes pinned on the girl standing off to the side. Her fingers tugged at the frayed strands of her sweater. “I see we have a new one.”

 

“Right,” Jody said gently. “Boys, this is Kaia. She’s what you call a dreamwalker. Kaia, this is Sam and Dean Winchester.”

 

“Hi,” Kaia whispered, averting her eyes. 

 

Dean frowned, not reassured by her soft, frightened word. Something didn't settle right with him, and he looked to Jody for explanation. Again, Jody just shook her head. 

 

Before anyone could break the newfound tension, Claire and Cas walked into the kitchen, looking much better than moments before. Dean itched to ask Cas what was said, but he also knew that Cas would either tell him in time or keep it to himself. 

 

Claire smiled at Kaia and broke away from Cas, moving over to her, something ultimately going softer as soon as she caught Kaia’s eye. But before she could make it, Claire was cut off. 

 

“Hi!” Jack said exuberantly, shoving his hand forward, causing Claire to jerk back and stare at him like he was nuts. “I’m Jack. I, too, look at Castiel as a father.”

 

Dean's hand immediately found his face, and he groaned, secondhand embarrassment making him hang his head. Jesus, he  _ claimed  _ that kid. Cas’ lips curled up in amusement as Claire stared down at his hand, looking ten seconds away from cutting it off. 

 

“Uh,” Claire muttered, narrowing her eyes on Jack in a way that made her look just like Cas. Dean’s heart stuttered. 

 

So many fucking kids looked like Cas,  _ too many.  _

 

“We should be friends,” Jack told her seriously, and Claire shot a look at Dean, her eyebrows cranking up like, ‘ _ what the fuck is happening here’? _

 

“Jack, right?” Claire said slowly, and Jack nodded so hard his hair flopped down into his eyes. He automatically blew his breath up to force it away. “Listen, you seem, um,  _ fun  _ and all, but-”

 

“She would love to be your friend!” Dean interrupted, surging forward to grab Claire’s shoulder and force out a laugh. “Right, Claire?”

 

“I- I guess,” Claire muttered, looking at Dean in confusion. 

 

“Well, isn't that just great. Awesome, we’re all friends. So, uh, I’m sure everyone is beat. Kids, why don't you all turn in for the night, hmm?” Dean said in a rush, flapping his hands and urging the kids towards the doorway. “You too, Jack.”

 

“I don't need sleep tonight,” Jack muttered, frowning petulantly. 

 

“Then go do homework,” Dean huffed and slammed the door. “Goodnight!”

 

There was silence for a moment before all of the kids answered back from behind the door in bland tones of disbelief and annoyance. Dean turned around and clapped his hands together, winking at Jody and Donna. They didn't appear to want to protest, smiling instead. 

 

“They were here for all of ten minutes,” Cas deadpanned. 

 

“Shuddup,” Dean laughed, clinking his beer with Jody’s when she passed one over. “They need their rest anyway. Besides, adult conversation requires the absence of children.”

 

“Amen to that,” Jody huffed out and held her bottle up.

 

“How did it go with Claire?” Sam asked Cas. 

 

“It was...strange. Claire mostly spoke of missing me, of missing her father’s face. Of course, I felt guilty for stealing that, but she assured me that wasn't what she meant. I think it means that she truly does view me as a father and as something like a separate entity from her father, despite the resemblance. Either way, it was therapeutic.” 

 

“That’s good,” Donna hummed in approval. “Kaia has done wonders on her.”

 

“Speaking of,” Dean muttered, taking a deep swallow of his beer in preparation for what would most likely be a depressing story, “what’s with her?”

 

“Well,” Jody said, pursing her lips and crossing her arms, “Alex actually brought her home. Kaia ended up in the hospital Alex works at, said it was the worst case she’d ever seen. Kaia was refusing to sleep. Turns out, she’s just a dreamwalker.”

 

“So… what does that mean?” Sam asked in surprise. 

 

“She can walk in different worlds in her dreams. It’s kinda crazy, but Alex just knew something was off about Kaia. She had been begging not to be forced to sleep, desperate not to go back to the bad place that held monsters,” Jody explained, sighing heavily. 

 

“Poor kid,” Dean muttered in sympathy, understanding all too well what a nightmare could actually do to a person. “She’s so quiet, though. How is she doing with all of this?”

 

“Well, she didn't take too well to it all at first. She was scared but we just wanted to help her. Donna actually got in contact with someone who was a dreamwalker so they could teach Kaia how to control where she’d end up. Kaia didn't believe us and ran off.”

 

“But she’s back?”

 

“That’s because of Claire,” Jody admitted, shrugging. 

 

“Really?” Cas asked, clearly interested. 

 

“Mhm,” Donna confirmed. “She’s really a good hunter, doncha know? She traced Kaia down without ever having met her and got her back.”

 

“How’d she manage that?” Sam questioned, no doubt seeing how closed off Kaia was.

 

“No one knows what happened between those two,” Donna answered, shrugging slightly and sighing softly. “Whatever it was, it changed ‘em both.”

 

“Yeah,” Jody agreed, fiddling with the label on her beer. “They are practically joined at the hip now. When Claire goes on a hunt, Kaia goes with her. When Kaia goes to a session to help with her dreamwalking, Claire is right there with her. You should've seen Kaia  _ before  _ Claire. Think she’s shy now? Oh boy, you have no idea.”

 

“Well, she still seems really closed off,” Sam noted. 

 

“That’s because you all are new to her. Plus, she didn't have Claire with her. Just wait, she’ll be laughing and talking here soon,” Donna promised easily. 

 

“Well, I’m glad Claire has found someone to be close with,” Cas admitted, smiling slightly at Jody and rubbing a hand down one of his sleeves. 

 

“Jack’s gonna be so upset,” Dean snorted, and Cas smacked him on his shoulder lightly. 

 

“Well, I’m just glad I won't have to worry about Claire getting knocked up anymore. It’s just Alex now,” Jody said, rolling her eyes and taking another gulp of her beer. 

 

Donna nodded in agreement, but she was the only one who moved. Sam blinked at Jody in obvious surprise, automatically getting what she was saying. It took Dean a moment, but when he finally understood, when he finally realized what she was implying, he choked a little and stared at Cas to see his reaction. Frowning, Cas just drew his eyebrows together, his confusion obvious, and he tilted his head at Jody. 

 

“You are suggesting that Claire and Kaia are...involved?” Cas spoke up. 

 

“Oh, come on,” Jody chuckled. “They have to be or they will be. It’s pretty freaking obvious how they react to each other. Seriously, it's  _ palpable. _ ”

 

“Did Claire say-”

 

“Well, no, but I mean-”

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean said, cutting everyone off. “So, we are all just going to sit here, debate this girl’s sexuality, and her supposed relationship with another kid that you take care of  _ instead _ of simply asking her?”

 

“Well, do you want to be the one to ask?” Jody challenged, arching an eyebrow. 

 

Everyone stared at him expectantly. 

 

“Er, so how long were they friends before things got serious?”

 

Donna and Jody shared a laugh, and answered his question. Cas was interested in the subject, clearly taking his father role seriously, and Sam had taken a special interest in Kaia and her abilities. Dean, for the most part, was stuck with the thought of everyone debating Claire’s sexuality. 

 

No one seemed to care one way or another, just curious, and Dean could feel an announcement crawling up his throat. 

 

He looked around at the people he’d claimed as his family and wondered why he'd never said anything. Using his father as an excuse no longer held up, and why would they ask if he never made it even remotely obvious? 

 

Cas was his only exception, somehow making it so ridiculously obvious that Dean wondered why no one  _ had _ asked, especially with the way they gossiped about Claire, but he realized no one wanted to be the one to ask her because of how she would react, and maybe that was why no one asked him. 

 

And suddenly, Dean had to tell them, had to get the words out in the open and make them real. Maybe it was pointless, maybe they already knew or had a clue, but Dean couldn't let it settle within him any longer. The only person he'd ever told was dead, and that piece of him died with her, never knowing the light of day again. 

 

Until now. 

 

“I'm bisexual,” Dean blurted out. 

 

All eyes spun towards him. He swallowed, the words hanging heavily in the room. A part of him wanted to snatch them back in, pretend they never happened. But Cas reached a hand out, gently squeezing his arm, which was not even remotely fair, and smiled at him. The others followed suit, simply smiling at him. 

 

“Cool,” Donna hummed. “Claire might be, too. Maybe we still do have to worry about her getting pregnant one day.”

 

“Bummer,” Jody sighed, groaning in mock despair and polishing off her beer. 

 

Dean took a deep breath and blinked, listening as the conversation just continued on. His eyes found the warm brown gaze of Sam’s, their eyes connecting. Sam quirked a smile, something proud and genuine in it, and Dean raised his beer at him, taking a swig when Sam returned the gesture, a small celebration shared among them. 

 

That night, Dean rested easy. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, the lone Smut Chapter (tm). Had to happen can, no apologies from me!

“You're up early.”

 

Dean blinked blearily up at Cas as he walked into the kitchen, his eyes skating down Cas’ form perched against the counter, a smile curling his lips softly. Dean blinked as the image bounced around in his head and made his chest tighten. Grunting, he walked forward and fell against Cas, dropping his head into Cas’ neck. 

 

“So early,” Dean mumbled, smacking his lips and relaxing against Cas. 

 

Cas didn't say anything, didn't ask any questions, and just lifted his free hand to cup the back of Dean's head as he relaxed into Dean. And jesus, it felt fucking  _ domestic  _ and ridiculous, but Dean couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. 

 

“Coffee?” Cas offered, reaching around to grab Dean a cup. 

 

“You're an angel,” Dean murmured and pulled away just enough to take a sip before passing it back over. He closed his eyes and sank back down, his hands crawling into Cas’ trench coat as his cheek pressed into Cas’ collarbone. 

 

“You're a human,” Cas mused, amusement curling on the end of his tongue. “A human who does not do mornings well.”

 

“Don't judge me,” Dean huffed and shoved his face farther in Cas’ neck, taking a deep breath and immediately snatching back to stare up at Cas in surprise. “You smell good.”

 

“Mm,” Cas chuckled, eyebrows raising. “Do I?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, clearing his throat as Cas stared at him in open curiosity, clearly wondering what the hell Dean was on about. “Just, you- I dunno.”

 

Cas waited, and when Dean didn't have anything else to offer, he just blinked at Dean. Cas offered the coffee mug again, and Dean felt something break loose within him, like a spring finally losing its strength. He took a deep breath, attempting to reign it in, but it didn't matter; it was too late. Dean leaned up to press his lips gently against Cas’ and shift closer before he could think about it. 

 

The thing was, after all of the shit with the Empty and Lucifer and  _ everything, _ they had never got around to talking about their previous encounters. They had yet to sit down and take a moment alone to talk all their shit out to figure out where they stood. Truth be told, Dean was almost relieved that they hadn't because he was  _ terrified.  _

 

But standing there, kissing Cas, letting their lips gently press together and slide sweetly across each other...well, it felt like everything Dean ever wanted in his entire life. 

 

“Dean,” Cas breathed, his lips just a twitch away, and Dean swallowed, staring at the way Cas held himself still, eyes closed, breathing evenly. 

 

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean croaked out, not even bothering to fight the huskiness of his voice. 

 

“I really enjoy doing that with you,” Cas admitted, swallowing and blinking open his eyes. “I- I feel with you. I feel  _ good  _ with you.”

 

“Yeah?” Dean mumbled, his eyes flicking back and forth between the inviting plumpiness of Cas’ lips and his hopeful gaze. “Me too, Cas, me too.” 

 

“But Dean,” Cas said, taking a deep breath and looking at Dean seriously, “I'm  _ alive  _ now, and I want things. I understand if you don't- if you  _ can't,  _ but I'm not lying anymore.”

 

“Cas, Cas,” Dean muttered quickly, reaching up to grasp Cas by his cheeks. “Hey, listen to me. It's not like that. I may not be the best with all this stuff, but I won't ignore it anymore. There is  _ nothing  _ you have to worry about, okay?”

 

“Why now?” Cas whispered, cutting his eyes away from Dean in shame. 

 

“Oh, man,” Dean huffed out, swallowing thickly as guilt threatened to choke him, “I'm sorry, Cas. I wasn't- I promise that I wasn't ignoring you or pretending it never happened, okay? I'm just not so freaked out anymore. I trust everyone to come back when they disappear out of my sight now, y’know? And Cas, I don't want to lose you or anyone else again.”

 

“I just want you to be sure,” Cas murmured. 

 

“I know,” Dean allowed, heaving a sigh. “Truth is, I'm scared shitless. I'm scared of you, of losing you, of fucking up what we already have. I'm scared, but Cas, you're worth it. There ain’t many people who are worth the trouble, not to me, but you're one of ‘em. And I'm not going anywhere.”

 

“So, why don't I feel better?” Cas asked in confusion, his lips turning down. “You're saying all good things, but I still have this worry eating at me. Dean, I don't understand why this isn't making me feel any better. If anything, I feel uncertain.”

 

“Are  _ you _ sure?” Dean asked, his voice cracking as he started to move back. 

 

“Yes,” Cas replied automatically, clamping his hands around Dean and tugging him closer, his frown becoming more prominent. “I just- Though you say all these things that lead me to believe that you want this, I still have doubts. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

 

“Ah,” Dean huffed out, his lips curling up in amusement. “Yeah, Cas, I get it. Come on.”

 

Cas blinked at him in confusion, but he allowed Dean to tug him out of the kitchen, following him dutifully to his bedroom. They passed Sam on the way, his hair in a ponytail as he started towards the door to go to his morning jog. 

 

“Good morning, you two,” Sam greeted easily, his eyes following them as Dean continued to tug Cas along. 

 

“Good morning, Sam,” Cas greeted, and Dean refused to slow down. 

 

“Where are you two off to in such a hurry?” Sam called after them. 

 

“Mind your business, Samantha!” Dean called back and continued towards his room. 

 

Dean shoved his way into his room and shut the door behind Cas, amused at the sight of Cas standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. As many times as Cas had been in his room, it suddenly felt different for both of them. There was silence and something unexplainable in the air around them, something heady and unmistakable. 

 

Dean didn't say anything, didn't warn Cas, just walked right up to him and reached out, his fingers splaying wide over Cas’ shoulders. Cas blinked and watched Dean as his trench coat was slowly plucked away with care. Cas shrugged out of it as Dean peeled it off, swallowing at the sight of Cas in just a suit. 

 

“Dean?” Cas finally questioned. “What are we doing?”

 

“Doubt,” Dean explained, pushing his fingers into Cas’ suit jacket and sliding it off, his eyes following every inch that fell away. “We need confirmation.”

 

“You have doubt?” Cas asked, clearly surprised at the thought. 

 

“Don't you get it?” Dean huffed, tossing Cas’ suit jacket away and taking in Cas in just his white button-up shirt, his throat bobbing. “I don't deserve you, Cas. Why else would you get taken from me so much? I shouldn't be allowed this.”

 

“Dean, you are more than worthy,” Cas argued, frowning deeply at Dean’s flippant self-degrading. “Why else do I keep returning to you?”

 

“Because, we’re a couple of dumbasses who don't know how to leave each other alone. And Cas, that's okay,” Dean said with a soft laugh. “Maybe we’re not supposed to have this, maybe we are. But it doesn't matter. Since when have we  _ ever  _ cared about the plans made for us. We do what we want, what's right. And this? This is right. So, confirmation because  _ fuck  _ doubt.”

 

Cas huffed out a small laugh, obviously liking that admission. Dean gave him a shaky grin and reached out again, his fingers shaking when they finally landed on the top button. Slowly, Dean started a path down, unbuttoning as he went, and more chest revealed itself to Dean, a slow tease of tan skin that Dean couldn't tear his eyes from if he tried. 

 

When Dean's fingers got to the last button and all that was left to do was unbuckle the belt and pull off the shirt, Dean glanced up to meet Cas’ gaze. He was standing there, eyes wide, and his hands were balled into fists. Dean realized the gravity of the moment, realized what they were about to do, and he knew Cas felt it too. 

 

_ ‘I don't want to  _ fuck,  _ Dean’. _

 

Cas’ words floated through Dean’s mind, and he slowly let out a breath, attempting to calm his racing heart. Dean quickly unbuckled the belt and yanked it loose in one smooth motion. Before Cas could barely jerk from the abruptness, Dean was pushing back the soft fabric and staring at endless tan skin, chords and muscle popping up in places from tension and a natural lithe frame that Dean was honestly blown away by. 

 

Dean had seen Cas without a shirt before, had seen him  _ naked  _ before, but that was different. He was allowed to look at Cas and actually enjoy what he was seeing, was allowed to ache to touch, was allowed to admire and crave. It was okay, and Dean lifted his eyes to Cas’ in question, his answer already waiting in Cas’ gaze. 

 

“It's okay,” Cas whispered, his voice scraping against his throat. “Don't stop.”

 

Dean wanted to throw Cas down and squeeze his eyes shut, wanted to get lost in the long span of Cas’ salty skin, wanted to shut everything out besides what he felt, but Dean knew he couldn't. He knew Cas deserved better, that he wanted something more intimate with Dean. 

 

So Dean lifted his hands and ran them over the skin, ignoring the way they shook, and watched Cas’ face, watched the way he curled into the touch like it was a gift. Dean felt powerful and warmth bloomed within him like a pretty flower. Sucking in a sharp breath, Dean felt all restraint within him just  _ snap. _

 

It was nine years worth of pining, and needing, and  _ wanting,  _ and Dean just couldn't help himself. Groaning, he shoved forward and kissed Cas, his head tipping to the side to get the perfect angle so he could dig his teeth in and tug. 

 

A moan fell from Cas’ throat brokenly, shock clearly mixed in, most likely stunned by the response or Dean's attack. Either way, Cas raked his hands up under Dean's shirt, nails gently gliding over skin and skimming lightly over his hip bones, making Dean let out a full body shudder. Dean didn't want to break away, but clothes had to come off, so his hands started tugging at Cas’ pants and boxers, shoving them down until they pooled to the floor. Dean was left with skin and the evidence of Cas’ arousal weighing heavy in his hand. 

 

“Cas,” Dean gasped, pulling away and staring down at Cas’ dick in fascination, his hand squeezing softly and tugging. “I- I- Shit, I was going to go slower.”

 

“We can go slow  _ later, _ ” Cas growled, reaching out to yank Dean's shirt over his head, his hands flinging it away and reaching down to make quick work of Dean's pants. 

 

“Okay,” Dean agreed, eyes closing as Cas’ fingers dipped down in the waistband of his boxers and wrapped around his dick, sending a jolt of pleasure tap-dancing down his spine. 

 

“No,” Cas ordered, voice tight and breathless at the same time somehow. “Look at me, Dean.”

 

Dean's eyes flew open, and Cas pushed his boxers down, letting them fall to the floor, and continued to tug gently on Dean's dick, eyes never wavering from his. And it was good, but it was dry and not enough friction, and  _ fuck,  _ they needed to slow down. 

 

“Okay, okay,” Dean breathed out, dropping his hand and tugging Cas’ away from him, pushing him back towards the bed. “Stop. We gotta get horizontal.” 

 

Cas huffed but let Dean lead him to the bed. He sat, and by Dean's guidance, Cas shifted on the bed until he was lying down. Dean crawled up the length of his body, his hands stroking and caressing as they went. Cas hummed and arched into Dean's hand once it wrapped around his dick. 

 

Dean leaned down and kissed Cas’ hip bones, letting his tongue follow the V shape and biting back a smile when Cas let out a long, deep exhale. Cas jerked when Dean wrapped his lips around his dick and let his tongue work his mouth farther down. 

 

“I don't-  _ Dean, _ ” Cas groaned, his fingers clenching the covers, and Dean popped off, pausing to arch an eyebrow at Cas. 

 

“You alright?” Dean asked, half concerned and half amused. 

 

“April did  _ not _ do that,” Cas admitted, blinking rapidly and clearing his throat. 

 

“Shame,” Dean snorted. “Everyone deserves a blowjob. Why, do you want me to stop?” 

 

Cas went still and stared at Dean blankly. 

 

“ _ No. _ ” 

 

Dean grinned and dipped back down, reveling in the sharp breath Cas took in as his mouth restarted its mission. Cas was big in his mouth, though he was wider than he was long, but Dean eventually managed to get Cas’ head to the back of his throat, gagging slightly. 

 

Before Dean could even breathe through his nose, Cas was grasping him by the shoulders and tugging him off, yanking him up to gaze at him in concern. Dean blinked in shock at the sudden change in position. 

 

“What? What's wrong?” Dean asked cautiously. 

 

“I was choking you,” Cas mumbled, red bleeding into his cheeks. “I apologize, Dean, I did not mean to cause you any pain.”

 

“Cas,” Dean blurted out, laughter springing forward from his lips. “Jesus, it's fine. I'm fine. It's not causing me pain like that. Just, uh, a lot to take in.”

 

“Oh,” Cas mumbled, averting his eyes. 

 

“Hey,” Dean said softly, reaching out to pull Cas in for a sweet kiss, “it's okay. We’re learning each other together. It's going to be fun, and if, at any point, you don't like something, then we stop.”

 

“I don't like the idea of you being uncomfortable or in pain,” Cas admitted, refusing to look ashamed of that statement, and Dean smiled softly. 

 

“Well, sex is fun and feels great, but there are times when it can get a little painful. However, that doesn't necessarily mean it's not pleasurable. Y’know what I mean?”

 

“Sex with women seems... _ easier. _ ”

 

“Mm,” Dean hummed, wrinkling his nose. “It probably is, to be honest. But only in the fundamental view. I mean, sex isn't easy unless it's with someone you trust, anyway.”

 

“But women always seem to enjoy it more,” Cas sighed. “The penetration, I mean.”

 

“Oh, no, not necessarily. Women can fake it while men can't. I mean, most guys don't really take care of their women, and they just get used to it, I guess?”

 

“That’s not fair.”

 

“No, it's not,” Dean agreed, pursing his lips. “But sex is enjoyable as long as you're with the right person, and as long as you care about your partner’s pleasure just as much as you do your own.”

 

“Have you ever?” Cas started, his eyebrows arching up. “With a man?”

 

“No,” Dean admitted slowly, frowning, “not all the way.”

 

“Why not?” Cas asked curiously. 

 

“Never had anyone who I trusted enough to do it with,” Dean said gently, quirking a smile at Cas and winking playfully. “Until now, anyway.”

 

Cas blinked at him and Dean smiled, waiting. Huffing out a breath of happiness, Cas surged forward and pressed their lips together. Dean hummed into it and closed his eyes, letting it grow heated from where the tension had cooled down. 

 

It was sort of simple to just fall into each other and not let go. They swapped kisses and moans like each was a new revelation, their lips never not on each other. It was perfect, awkward, and  _ safe, _ and Dean trusted Cas with his everything. It was why he had made the first move, grabbing the lube from the bedside table and slathering up Cas’ finger deliberately.

 

Dean didn't explain it, sure that Cas understood most of everything, and just pushed Cas’ hand down, letting him figure out the rest of the route by himself. Cas eventually did figure it out, slipping one digit in up to his first knuckle and freezing when Dean clenched around the intrusion. 

 

It didn't exactly hurt or feel good, but then again, Cas was extremely gentle and there was a lot of lube. Before Dean knew what was happening, he was fully relaxed and biting his lip as Cas slowly worked in another finger. The second finger demanded a bit of a stretch, but it didn't hurt, just left a slight trail of heat every time Cas pumped his fingers. Then, Cas got the bright idea to use his free hand and stroke Dean's dick, sending warmth shooting through him in all different directions. 

 

“Shit,” Dean hissed, biting his lip and letting his eyes flutter closed. 

 

“Dean,” Cas whispered softly, “look at me.”

 

Automatically, Dean opened his eyes, and everything suddenly seemed so much more intense. Cas’ fingers pumped easily, and the bright blue gaze sparked in interest when he curled his fingers. Dean let out an embarrassingly loud moan, his fingers digging into Cas’ shoulders at the sparks that shot through him.

 

“Oh,” Dean breathed out, surprised. “I didn't know-  _ Fuck! _ ”

 

Cas did it again, his lips curling into a smile more worthy of a demon than an angel. Apparently finding his confidence, Cas curled his fingers a few more times, waiting until Dean’s face was shoved into the crook of his arm, until his whole body was trembling before adding yet another finger.

 

“Do not orgasm,” Cas said simply and started curling his fingers again. 

 

Dean wanted to tell Cas that the words were far too accurate for the moment, but his words choked off in his throat as Cas scooted down and moved Dean to his back rather than his side, his fingers still working him open while he leaned down and wrapped his lips around Dean's dick. Dean arched as Cas swallowed him all in one go, apparently lacking a fucking gag reflex, which was all kinds of unfair. Pleasure slammed into him from both sides and Dean tried to, simultaneously, crawl away from Cas as he clenched his fist in Cas’ hair, chasing after it.

 

“Cas, I'm gonna- Cas!” Dean exclaimed, his legs flailing as he tried to escape his orgasm. 

 

Right on the brink, Cas just...stopped. 

 

Dean wasn't even embarrassed by the whine that left his throat, his glare finding Cas because  _ ‘what the fuck, he was so close’ _ . Cas simply blinked up at him, squinting at him in something that wasn't confusion for once. Clearing his throat, Cas licked his lips. 

 

“I want to know what it feels like,” Cas said. 

 

“Right now, it feels like fucking torture,” Dean snapped, his hips rolling as he tried to get enough friction to send him sailing over the edge. “Why the fuck did you stop?”

 

“I mean, I want you to do this to me next time, Dean,” Cas told him seriously, and Dean’s throat clicked as he swallowed thickly.

 

“Yeah, we can, uh, do that,” Dean agreed, eyes glazing over as he visualized working Cas open. The way he'd twist in the bed, how he'd moan. “I'm down if you are.”

 

“Okay,” Cas hummed and lifted himself up, crowding close to Dean. “I'm going to penetrate you now.”

 

“Er, Cas... we really need to work on your sex talk, man,” Dean muttered, spreading his legs on instinct as Cas’ dick pressed bluntly against his ass. 

 

“You're still aroused,” Cas challenged and arched an eyebrow, daring Dean to deny it. 

 

“Hell yeah,” Dean blurted, rolling his eyes. “Just you wait, Cas, I'm gonna tease the shit out of you when the time comes. I swear-”

 

The rest of his sentence froze in his throat as Cas rocked his hips forward and slowly eased in. A dick was a helluva lot different than fingers, but not enough to cause any pain. There was a slight stretch and burn, but it wasn't enough to make him flinch away. 

 

Slowly, Cas pushed forward, his eyes fluttering but never closing as he eventually bottomed out. He let out a long breath as Dean adjusted to the feeling, clenching his ass and letting out a huff of laughter when Cas hissed and dropped his head into the crook of Dean’s neck. 

 

“You okay?” Cas managed to garble out, sounding wrecked in a way that an angel never should.

 

“I'm good,” Dean said honestly. “You?”

 

“I feel...tight,” Cas mumbled. “Everything is so much  _ more. _ ”

 

“The joys of sex, Cas,” Dean hummed, pleased. “Now, move.”

 

Obediently, Cas slowly eased out, his breath catching in his throat, and rocked forward. Dean blinked at the sensation, focused on the stretch and burn feeling. Cas, apparently, decided that Dean needed even more sensations to focus on, and he reached between them, easing his fingers over Dean's dick, spreading precome and stroking in rhythm with the rocking of his hips. 

 

Dean was ultimately blindsided by the pleasure once the aches and burning faded, leaving nothing but the build of heat within him. Cas was full out moaning, clearly in some state of bliss, and Dean rolled his hips, urging him to go deeper, faster. Cas listened, and Dean moaned at the drag of friction, his heart racing as pleasure coiled tighter with every snap of Cas’ hips. 

 

“Dean,” Cas growled, his hand speeding up around Dean's dick as his hips started stuttering and slowing down, “I feel- It feels-”

 

“How does it feel?” Dean gasped out, his eyes rolling back as Cas reached the perfect spot.

 

“Like  _ heaven, _ ” Cas whimpered, the shock of that falling from his lips sending them both into another level of bliss.

 

Cas groaned his name, snapping his hips forward while flicking his wrist, and Dean was  _ gone.  _ Without warning, his orgasm hit him, and he spilled over Cas’ fingers, his breath hiccuping out of him as he let loose one long moan. He clenched tight, everything locking up as he rode out his orgasm, and Cas fucking  _ keened _ , his hips jerking back as he let his orgasm spill on his hand still sticky with Dean's. 

 

Dean was thankful that Cas didn't come in his ass and he wanted to express his gratitude, but he couldn't really move, all of his muscles turning to goo as Cas unfolded from him and flopped down beside him. Cas clean hand came up to swipe down his face as his chest heaved from exertion.

 

Dean was floating on his post-orgasm high, his eyes firmly closed. Everything was good, his body tingling in the best way, and he never wanted to come down. He hadn't had that good of sex in a long time, and the feelings that were bubbling up in his chest made the whole experience the best he'd ever had. Dean suddenly understood why people said  _ ‘I love you’ _ during sex. 

 

Cas sighed happily and reached over, nudging him. Dean didn't have anything to offer and just grunted in reply, not even sure if Cas had said anything. The bed dipped and Dean was faintly aware of Cas moving across the room, but he didn't have time to worry before the bed dipped again. Dean felt the rag swipe across his belly and worn out dick, and he glanced up, squinting at Cas. 

 

“Thanks,” Dean managed to get out gruffly. 

 

“Of course,” Cas said easily. 

 

“Did you, uh, enjoy your sex experience?” Dean asked, reaching up to place his arm behind his head and watched as Cas cleaned them both up. 

 

“Immensely,” Cas told him, flicking his eyes up, throwing him a look that had Dean's toes curling. 

 

“Uh uh, do not look at me like that. I'm tired and I don't know if I can do another round,” Dean huffed, wagging a finger at him. 

 

“You do look pretty tired,” Cas admitted with a weak smile. “Did you enjoy it, Dean?”

 

“You little shit,” Dean snorted. “Y’know I enjoyed that.”

 

“So, we are compatible,” Cas noted, pleased. 

 

“Doubts?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. 

 

Cas looked at him with pure love, joy and adoration in his eyes, and Dean felt as if all the air had been forced from his lungs. That was love, no doubt, and whether Cas knew it or not, Dean could see it, could see the affection and care in his eyes. Before Cas even spoke, Dean knew what he'd say. 

 

“ _ None. _ ”


	23. Chapter 23

“Why do you look...different?”

 

Dean stared up at Sam with wide eyes, the spoon holding his cereal and milk freezing halfway to his mouth. Immediately, panic gripped him as his mind brought him the image of Cas hovering over him and making the most adorable face of pleasure. Sam stared at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed, and Dean cleared his throat, putting the bowl of cereal to the side. 

 

“I don't,” Dean denied immediately.

 

Which was a lie because no one had sex with someone they wanted for nine years without looking slightly different, and it didn't help that Sam knew what he looked like when he'd had great sex. Too many years of living in close quarters didn't leave much to hide. Hell, Dean knew what Sam looked like when he'd ate a greasy ass burger because he'd seen that look of guilt plenty of times. 

 

“What did you do?” Sam asked. 

 

“Nothing,” Dean blurted out and fought the urge to roll his eyes because that wasn't telling  _ at all. _

 

“Uh huh,” Sam hummed, pursing his lips and crossing his arms. “The girls should be up soon, so you might as well tell me while it is just us.”

 

“There is nothing to tell,” Dean huffed. 

 

“You put down your cereal,” Sam pointed out and raised his eyebrows. “Spill.”

 

“Fine,” Dean bit out, rolling his eyes. “I got laid, okay?”

 

“Yeah, that's the look,” Sam hummed, nodding. “Keep going.”

 

“You already know, so why are you asking?”

 

“Because you need to say it.”

 

“But-

 

“Dean.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Dean grumbled, glaring at Sam. “Cas and I- Well, we, uh, you know.”

 

“If it was literally anyone else that I didn't care about, I wouldn't push for more, but it's Cas. He's my brother too, and I really don't wanna have to kick your ass, so…keep going.”

 

“Fine, asshat. Cas and I had sex. Plain as that. It was great, and we will probably do it again. Keep pestering me about it, and I’ll kick  _ your  _ ass.”

 

Sam grinned widely and held his hands up in surrender, though he clearly felt like he won. Rolling his eyes, Dean picked up cereal again and took a big bite, smiling sarcastically at Sam. Chuckling, Sam reached out and clapped him on his shoulder. 

 

“Good for you two, then. Bout damn time, I’ll say that. Just, uh, keep it to the bedroom,” Sam said cheerfully. “Also, if you hurt Cas, I really will kick your ass.”

 

“I know,” Dean sighed. “You don't have to worry about that, though.”

 

“I know,” Sam echoed softly. 

 

There was a quiet understanding between them as they continued their breakfast. There were many reasons that Sam was one of his favorite people in the whole world, but one of the biggest reasons was how easy it was with Sam. It was almost like a fresh breath of air to just hang out with him.

 

“Hey,” Dean murmured. 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“We should go do something.”

 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, looking at him curiously. 

 

“Just me and you. Not a hunt or anything. We should go, I dunno, fishing or something. Jack and Cas can go do something, and we should just have some brother time,” Dean suggested. 

 

“Like...take a trip that doesn't involve killing something?” Sam asked, arching an eyebrow. 

 

“Shuddup,” Dean huffed. “But yeah. Why not?” 

 

“No reason not to. We just never have. Cas and Jack could go to a museum.”

 

“So, like, you'd be down for that?”

 

“Uh, hell yeah,” Sam blurted, eyebrows crinkling together. “Why wouldn't I be?” 

 

“I dunno,” Dean admitted, shrugging. 

 

“Dean, it sounds like a good idea. It’ll be good for us,” Sam said excitedly, his lips stretching into a wide grin that made Dean’s heart clench in his chest. 

 

“Jesus, man,” Dean exhaled, swiping his hand down his face, “I’ve been a shit brother lately, haven't I?”

 

“You've been a little distracted lately, yeah, and you've been grieving, so you're allowed.”

 

“What about tomorrow? We can just get away for awhile.”

 

“Uh,” Sam stuttered, his eyes widening as his previous excitement died in his eyes. “Tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said slowly, eyes turning to slits as Sam shifted. “Why?”

 

“I’ve, uh, actually got this thing, so I don't know if-” 

 

“What thing?”

 

“Nothing, really,” Sam muttered, his left eye twitching as it always did when he lied. 

 

“Sam,” Dean sighed, lip curling up in a sneer, “you're a shit liar, man. What the fuck is it?”

 

“Okay, fine,” Sam snapped, rolling his eyes and going still.

 

“Well?”

 

“I may have something already planned. It's- Well, I have a... _ date. _ ”

 

Dean went still, eyebrows arched in surprise. Sam hadn't gone on a date in years, which was about the same for Dean. Their lives just didn't allow for it, some new apocalypse waiting around the corner. They hunted and saved the world, that was about it, which didn't leave room for much else. 

 

“A date?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam said and cleared his throat. 

 

“You don't usually date,” Dean commented. “Who is the lucky person?”

 

“Gender neutral,” Sam noted, a small smiling gracing his face. “I like it. Cas is having a good effect on you already. And it's Eileen; she’s my date.”

 

“Oh,” Dean chuckled, eyebrows raising. “How did that happen? That’s cute.”

 

“We kept in touch after everything with the British Men of Letters. She was gonna go to Germany, but I convinced her to go out with me instead. So, uh, I kinda can't cancel,” Sam explained, eyes lighting up in a way Dean hadn't seen since Amelia. 

 

“You sly dog,” Dean chortled, pride seeping into his words. “Good for you, man.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Sam muttered, taking a deep breath, “I really like her. Like,  _ a lot.  _ I want- I don't know. I guess with you and Cas… I just got some kinda hope suddenly. Now, I want more, y’know?”

 

“What about hunting?” Dean asked casually.

 

“Hey, you're the one who is suggesting vacation time all of a sudden,” Sam accused, pointing at him seriously, “so don't even start with me.”

 

“I’m not,” Dean swore, holding his hands out in surrender. “Just asking. Things are... _ different.  _ But it’s still our life. Kinda hard to avoid it.”

 

“Yeah, well, Eileen is a hunter, too. I’m not saying an apple pie life necessarily, but it could be something more than just this,” Sam murmured, hope making him fold in on himself, presenting as a much younger man who had lost too many good things to suddenly have hope. 

 

It sucked. Dean had tried and he knew it wasn't easy. But Sam deserved it, deserved to come home to wife and children and not be constantly aware of all the things that went bump in the night. 

 

He could’ve had that already, had Dean never stole him away from college, rolling in like a disease and tainting every glimpse of Sam’s future. Though it scared him and made him wary at the thought of losing his brother, Dean wanted Sam to have it all, wanted Sam to have that joy and freedom.  

 

“We’ve put in a lot of work, Sammy. We’ve saved this world and the people we care about more than humanly possible. We’ve died, we’ve drove every back road across the west to save people, and we’ve made too many sacrifices. You’ve done too much to not deserve more than just this, so I say, to hell with the world. Go get the girl and the apple pie life if that's what you want.”

 

“Thanks, Dean. You know, it's not just me, right? You and Cas can have it too, if you want.”

 

“Oh, I don't know about all that,” Dean admitted awkwardly, averting his gaze. “We’ve got a lot of shit, man. Endless piles of shit that we gotta figure out.”

 

“Well,” Sam hummed, “we still have time.”

 

“True,” Dean agreed and took a deep breath, preparing himself. “Just promise me something, Sammy?”

 

“What?”  

 

“No matter where we end up, just promise me that we will still be...us. I know we depend on each other, too much sometimes, and I’m aware we shouldn't do that for the rest of our lives, but I’m not losing touch with you. We’re brothers, and that is  _ never  _ going to change.”

 

“Dean,” Sam whispered gently, leaning over to knock their shoulders together, “no matter what, we are always gonna have each other’s backs. We’re family, and I’ll hunt you down and kick your ass if you ever think we will lose touch. You're my brother, Dean, and you’ll always be apart of my life.”

 

Dean’s breath rattled out of him and relief knocked around his heart, leaving little dents of certainty that would never fade. They didn't say anything else on the subject, choosing instead to sit in comfortable silence until the girls started to trickle in one by one. 

 

“Morning,” Alex greeted cheerfully, the weight of the earlier conversation lifting. 

 

“Morning,” Sam replied simply, nodding to the counter. “Coffee is there.”

 

“Amazing,” Donna moaned, her hair sticking out wildly as she shuffled into the room after Alex and rushed over to the coffee machine, her eyes barely open. “Blessed caffeine, revive me.”

 

Dean stifled a laugh as Donna hummed into her borrowed mug, clearly not one for the mornings, which really surprised him. Jody followed in soon after, nodding her head to whatever Jack was babbling to her about as he followed in. Jody nodded in thanks as Donna passed her coffee and turned to stare at Jack fully, his smile frozen on his face as he clearly waited for an answer. 

 

“Um,” Jody muttered weakly, eyes cutting over to Dean, “what did you say again?”

 

“Oh,” Jack chirped, smile never faltering, “I was just asking if I could hang out with Claire today. I want to take her to get ice cream.”

 

“I’m gay,” Claire announced as she swept in the room, bypassing Jack altogether as she headed straight for coffee, reaching out to pinch Alex as she passed. “Sorry, buddy.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Jack asked in confusion.

 

“I’m gay,” Claire repeated, turning to look at him, tilting her head slightly. “You're not my type. Like, I’m not into- Jesus, I only like girls, Jack.”

 

“I don't understand what that has to do with ice cream,” Jack said, his eyebrows crinkling. 

 

“Told you he didn't like you,” Kaia murmured as she slipped in the room, quickly making her way to take a spot beside Claire, offering everyone an awkward smile. 

 

“Claire,” Dean sighed, rolling his eyes, “Jack hasn't even been alive for a full year. He's not ready for all that. He truly just wants to be your friend.”

 

“Oh,” Claire hummed, narrowing her eyes and looking at Jack in consideration. “I guess we could go get ice cream. I don't know who it could hurt. Kaia’s coming, though.”

 

“That sounds fun!” Jack said exuberantly, whirling around to stare at Dean with wide eyes full of hope and excitement. “Can I go, Dean?”

 

“Ask Cas,” Dean said automatically, lifting his hands. 

 

“Ask me what?” Cas called out as he opened the door and walked in, eyes widening as Jack slid over to him, nearly falling over in his enthusiasm.

 

“I want to go with Claire and Kaia to get ice cream. We’re going to be friends. Can I go?”

 

“Er, ask Sam.”

 

“Don't look at me,” Sam huffed, jerking his thumb at Dean. 

 

“Dean?” Jack asked hopefully, and Dean sighed heavily. 

 

“Yeah, I suppose you can, but either Claire or Kaia has to check in with us every half hour, just to be on the safe side,” Dean ordered, looking at Claire seriously. 

 

“Come on,” Claire groaned, rolling her eyes. 

 

“We will,” Kaia said gently, clearing her throat when everyone glanced at her. 

 

“Take the van and don't go over the speed limit,” Jody ordered, tossing her keys to Claire, eyeing her seriously. 

 

“Awesome,” Jack breathed out, whirling around again and nearly tripping as he came face to face with Alex, blinking rapidly in surprise. “Oh, hello.”

 

“Hi,” Alex said sweetly, smiling in amusement. 

 

Dean watched as Jack developed his first crush, his eyes widening in clear adoration as he no doubt fell in love on the spot. It was amusing to see, some kind of humor in watching Jack develop so quickly. Of course, it wasn't a crush like someone his age would have, obviously something leaning more towards a middle school crush, but it was adorable all the same. 

 

“Do  _ you  _ want to come get ice cream, too?” Jack offered, riveted to the spot as Alex grinned. 

 

“Sure,” Alex agreed, waving a hand easily. “Sounds fun. Come on.”

 

Claire snorted as Jack followed her dutifely from the room, not even checking to see if Kaia and Claire followed. Dean waved a hand at her and Claire rolled her eyes, sighing heavily as she took Kaia’s hand and dragged her from the room. With no kids blocking his view, Dean was left to gaze at Cas, his heart jumpstarting in his chest as he thought of the night before. 

 

“Well,” Donna hummed happily, “that’s awfully cute.”

 

“Adorable,” Jody agreed. 

 

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean said, eyes still pinned on Cas, swallowing thickly. 

 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greeted, offering a smile. 

 

“Sickening, really,” Sam deadpanned, and Dean elbowed him sharply. 

 

“Shut up,” Dean huffed, watching as Cas paced closer. “Want some coffee, Cas?”

 

“No, thank you,” Cas said politely, stopping a few steps from Dean, clear indecision in his face. Dean immediately felt like an idiot because Cas didn't drink coffee due to his angel status. 

 

It was a stilted moment, something awkward and weird stretching between them that Dean ultimately hated. But he ignored it, reaching out to curl his hand around Cas’ wrist and tug him close. Cas went willingly, and all the awkwardness shattered as Dean leaned up to give him a short peck to his lips. 

 

“Well, I’ll be,” Donna laughed joyfully. “This is an adorable morning, apparently.”

 

“And you hate mornings,” Jody teased.

 

“You betcha,” Donna agreed, smile wide. “But this is worth celebrating. Boys, can I use your kitchen?”

 

“Use away,” Sam offered, sweeping a hand out invitingly. 

 

“All I request is pie,” Dean told her, his arm tucked behind Cas’ back, their bodies leaning against each other like they were meant to be that way. 

 

“You know it,” Donna promised. 

 

Dean knew it was going to be a good day.

 

* * *

 

It was later that evening, once the kids had returned and they’d all enjoyed Donna’s celebration feast, that Dean finally took a moment to himself. In the span of a few days, he'd managed to come out as bisexual and scored a boyfriend. To be fair, it was a bit much for him. 

 

Dean settled into his bed and let out a deep sigh, relaxing into the silence of the room. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy all the guests or all of the good things that had happened recently, but Dean found himself struggling to accept it. Family had always meant few for Dean, and in his experience, good things never lasted long, if they ever came at all. 

 

It was a terrible life, he realized, to live in constant distress, nevering knowing when the next bad thing would happen, but being sure that it would. Jack had changed things, had changed  _ him,  _ and Dean accepted that it was for the better. Having young eyes watching him, learning from him, made Dean want to stop, to cut out every negative part of his life.

 

Hunting. 

 

That's what it all came back to. He'd made it so much more than just a career, taking it farther than something he could just come home from when he was done. Hunting was home, as wild as that sounded. Maybe, Dean mused, it was time for a change. 

 

“Dean?”

 

Jerking his head up, Dean was surprised to see Claire standing in the doorway, her hair in her face as she bowed her head. She looked awkward, her stance tense, and Dean knew immediately that what was to follow was going to be hell to get through. Sighing heavily, Dean sat up and jerked his head, allowing entrance, watching as she shut the door purposefully. 

 

“What's up, kiddo?” Dean asked, forcing himself to sound relaxed. 

 

“I want to talk to you about a couple of things,” Claire said slowly, her words deliberate, like maybe she had practised them beforehand. Dean was faintly amused at the thought. 

 

“Okay,” Dean hummed, spreading his hands invitingly, “shoot.”

 

“That's the thing, Dean,” Claire told him flatly, her head suddenly lifting as she looked at him in barely concealed aggression, “I  _ will  _ shoot you, literally, if need be. I’m telling you this right now, if you so much as harm one precious hair on Cas’ head, I will kick your ass.”

 

Blinking, Dean fought back a bark of laughter as it attempted to escape. Claire was so serious, her threat holding merit - to her at least - and Dean found himself struggling with amusement. He didn't doubt her expertise as far as kicking ass, but it just baffled him why everyone expected  _ him  _ to hurt Cas. If anything, Dean was the most vulnerable when it came to the dynamic. 

 

“Who told you?” Dean asked lightly, offering a smile, and Claire narrowed her eyes. 

 

_ ‘So like Cas’ _ .

 

“Cas did. He wanted to talk to me alone. S’not like I couldn't already tell, but I let him have his moment. He was...worried I wouldn't take it well.”

 

“You weren't too harsh on him, were you?”

 

“Suitably harsh, thank you much. I mean, I know it’s not my dad’s body anymore, and I think of him more as my dad’s super weird twin,  _ but  _ I couldn't let him get away without  _ some _ mockery.”

 

“And you're not angry at all?”

 

“Not exactly,” Claire sighed, pausing to purse her lips in consideration. “Cas isn't my dad, never was, but sometimes, he reminds me of  _ a dad  _ \- not mine - and things get...complicated. It's like motion memory, you know? Like, driving. Cas smiles at me a certain way, and for one second, it's my dad. As time passes, though, I spend more time with Cas than I ever did my dad, and now he's more of a father than my actual father, so I see my dad less now. It's all really fucking confusing, but I handle it.”

 

For a moment, Dean was thrown into silence. He didn't know what to say and was mostly positive there wasn't shit he could say to help her situation. It was something entirely unique, but Dean frowned at the implications. 

 

“Is there anything we can do? Should he start doing things differently?” Dean asked cautiously. 

 

“It’s not so bad. Seeing him more helps, and I'm sure seeing you and him together will help too. My dad was ridiculously straight, so that actually isn't all bad,” Claire said in amusement. 

 

“You're worried then?” Dean guessed. “You think I'll do something to fuck up?”

 

“No, not really, but it felt right letting you know I will skin you alive if you break his heart. You and Cas are sickeningly in love, anyone with eyes can see that, so I’m not too worried. Kaia is sort of making me start talking about my feelings, I guess?” Claire muttered, rolling her eyes. 

 

Dean felt the blush spread across his cheeks, and Claire smirked at him. It was stupid, but hearing Claire's easy deceleration of their love made Dean feel like a fumbling teenager. Claire apparently enjoyed seeing him squirm - the little shit - and acted as if she  _ wasn't  _ a fumbling teenager. Despite that, Dean knew better, knew she had a weak point too. 

 

“You're one to talk about love, Barbie doll,” Dean snapped, huffing in offense. “At least mine doesn't make me talk about feelings.” 

 

“Hey, I  _ resent  _ that,” Claire retorted, pointing a finger at him. “She's just trying to help.” 

 

“So you and Kaia, huh?” Dean murmured, raising his eyebrows. 

 

“Yeah,” Claire said simply, crossing her arms and glancing away from him. 

 

“How'd that happen?” 

 

“Jody asked me for help, but I think she just missed me. When she called, I didn't have anything else to do. I tracked Kaia down and we sort of got into a fight. She's badass, despite the way she acts. It was really obvious she was actually really scared about all of this,” Claire explained, keeping her gaze firmly away as she told her story. “I just- I don't know. There was something about her - still is - and I just went...soft.” 

 

“You didn't go soft, Claire,” Dean said gently, his lips curling up at her unease. “You just found your person. Everybody has one, and she's yours. It settles you down.” 

 

“We're still young,” Claire challenged, flicking her gaze over to him. “Aren't you supposed to tell me I don't know what love is and it probably won't last?” 

 

“That's awfully hypocritical of me. I fell for a fucking angel. What do  _ I  _ know about love, besides there's literally no rules, and if there are, I'd probably find a way to break ‘em.” 

 

Dean shrugged and pressed his lips together, adopting an innocent expression. Claire stared at him for a few moments, a blank look on her face, before she broke into a quick grin, the pleased expression forced away before Dean could fully enjoy it. Clearing her throat, Claire started backing up towards the door. 

 

“You're alright, Hasselhoff,” Claire murmured, reaching back to turn the doorknob. 

 

“Wow, I got your approval,” Dean mock gasped, pressing his hands to his chest and fluttering his eyelashes. “I'm  _ honored. _ ” 

 

“Oh, shut up,” Claire snorted, rolling her eyes as she opened the door. 

 

“Truly, I feel blessed, and I’m with an angel,” Dean teased, laughing when Claire stuck out her tongue and whirled around, clearly about to make her exit. 

 

She froze at the last second, her hand tightening on the doorknob so hard it creaked, and she slowly turned around. Her face was open and young, a vulnerability in her expression Dean wasn't prepared for. It was a quick thing, but Claire swallowed thickly and whispered two words that had Dean’s chest flooding with warmth. 

 

“Thank you.”


	24. Chapter 24

“Dean. Psst, Dean!”

 

Dean glanced up from the board game he and Kaia were playing with annoyance, his eyes narrowed. If Sam cost him his fucking property, he was gonna murder him. Kaia wore a faint smirk, noticing his discomfort, and Claire just looked on in pride. 

 

“What?” Dean snapped. 

 

“I need your help,” Sam muttered, looking faintly embarrassed. “Now, please.”

 

“Ugh, fine,” Dean groaned, shooting a look at Donna. “Wanna take over?”

 

“Does a dog have emotions?” Donna snorted, moving over to take his seat as he stood up. 

 

“Don't make me lose,” Dean warned, and Donna just shot him an unimpressed look. 

 

Dean sighed and followed Sam as he led them to his room. Dean knew almost immediately what he needed help with. He stared down at the two outfits splayed out on the bed in faint amusement. 

 

“Do not mock me,” Sam huffed, crossing his arms and chewing his lip. “Tonight is the third date with Eileen, and I dunno what to wear.”

 

“Does it matter?” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. “Third date means third base. The clothes will probably come off anyway.”

 

“The third date does  _ not  _ mean third base, Dean,” Sam argued, wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

 

“I know, I'm just kidding,” Dean chuckled. “Look, just relax. She already went on a second date with you, and that's the one you have to worry about. If you're getting a third, that means she’s most likely really starting to like you.”

 

“Yeah, but I think she kinda expects there to be...third base,” Sam admitted, a blush lighting up his cheeks as he reached back to scratch his neck.

 

“So?” Dean blurted. “That's awesome. Take her up on it, man.”

 

“I don't…” Sam trailed off and pursed his lips. 

 

“What? Do you not like her or something? Sam, you can't lead her on, dude.” Dean said, frowning in disapproval. “Eileen’s good people; she doesn't deserve that.”

 

“No, I  _ do  _ like her… It's just- Fuck, Dean, I haven't been invested in anyone since Amelia. Everyone I have been with pretty much ends in turmoil or dead, and it's kinda fucking terrifying because I really like Eileen,” Sam explained, dropping down to the bed with a pitiful groan.

 

Dean fought the stupid sibling urge to laugh because he knew Sam was serious. Realizing it was a time to be the big brother, Dean pushed the outfits to the side and sat beside Sam. 

 

The truth was, Dean wasn't sure how to handle the situation. On one hand, he wanted to tell Sam that everything would work out - but he couldn't promise that - and on the other, he wanted to leave the conversation entirely. Neither were an option, and he fumbled for a moment. 

 

“Look, man, Eileen seems like a really good girl. She’s pretty, funny, smart, and a total badass. Dude, she’s perfect for you. Not to mention, she already understands your crazy ass life. Maybe just talk to her? Tell her you're scared outta your gourd that you'll get too attached and lose her, or you’ll ruin her life.”

 

“She’s gonna think I’m crazy.”

 

“Sam,” Dean said with a soft huff of laughter, “you  _ are  _ crazy. Pretty sure she already knows that, too. So, like, don't stress and stuff, I guess. If I could be there to ease the tension, I would be. Unfortunately, you have to-”

 

Dean cut himself off as Sam’s head slowly raised and swiveled to him. He wore an innocent expression, eyes wide and hair looking suddenly more soft. Dean narrowed his eyes, doing his best to ignore the automatic affection he felt at that look. The fucking puppy eyes were not fair, and Dean already dreaded what Sam was going to ask. 

 

“Actually…” Sam began, his voice going higher in pitch. “Eileen really wants to go on a double date with you and Cas. I told her about your new relationship, and she was over the moon. Dude, she’d be ecstatic.”

 

“Nuh uh,” Dean said quickly, standing up and backing towards the door. “Nope, not gonna happen. That’s a hard no from me, thanks anyway.”

 

“Dean, come on,” Sam insisted, standing up and pinning a pleading look on him. “I’d be less awkward, and Eileen would love it.”

 

“Sam,” Dean muttered, feeling his defenses crack oh so easily. 

 

“What about Cas? Have you two even been on a real date? He’d be so happy, Dean. You  _ just  _ said you’d come if you could.”

 

Dean thought about Sam, so worried to fall for Eileen. He thought about Eileen excitedly signing to them faster than Dean could keep up with. He pictured Cas, eyes wide and dancing with delight. That was what families did, wasn't it? They went out together, did occasional double dates, and shared love easily. Dean hated it with every inch of his being, but he couldn't find his earlier refusals anywhere. 

 

“Fuck.”

 

Sam grinned, victory dancing in his eyes as Dean accepted defeat.

 

Slowly, Dean forced himself from the room, knowing exactly what he had to do. He started down the hall towards Cas’ room, and when he didn't find the angel there, he headed towards the kitchen. Cas wasn't there either, and Dean felt a trickle of unease splatter across his chest. He poked his head into the war room, no longer caring who was winning. 

 

“Hey, anyone seen Cas?” He asked hopefully. 

 

“Last I heard,” Claire started, distractedly watching Kaia and Donna battle across the board game, “he was with Jack and Jody in the loft.”

 

Dean threw a thanks over his shoulder as he started towards the room they didn't really start using until the girls had arrived. The door creaked as it opened, and he stopped in his tracks at the sight that met him. Jack was behind Alex, her hair gripped in his hand as he slowly braided it loosely. The TV was on, and Alex looked as if she was about to be asleep. 

 

“Hey,” Dean whispered, causing both kids to look over - Alex’s braid sort of falling apart - with polite looks of curiosity. “Was Cas in here?”

 

“Yeah,” Alex answered, a yawn breaking her words up. “He left with Jody a little while ago. They went to check something in the library, I think.”

 

“Thanks,” Dean said, moving to leave before pausing in his tracks. “You two okay in here?”

 

“Of course,” Jack said, confusion making his eyebrows crinkle. “Why wouldn't we be?”

 

“Just making sure,” Dean hummed, narrowing his eyes on Alex. “No funny business.”

 

“Funny business?” Jack asked quietly as Dean started to close the door. 

 

“He means, like, sexual stuff,” Alex answered, amusement in her voice. 

 

“Oh,” Jack choked out, and Dean shut the door. 

 

His amusement was quickly replaced with urgency as he started towards the library. It seemed like the bunker was much bigger all of a sudden; it was starting to get annoying. He practically burst into the library and froze when he was met with Jody curled up in an armchair, focused entirely on her book. She was alone. 

 

“You okay, Dean?” Jody asked, glancing up from her book. 

 

“Where the fuck is Cas?” Dean griped, huffing. “I’ve been looking all over for him.”

 

“He just left to go look for you,” Jody said, clearly biting back laughter. “Might wanna try your room, maybe?”

 

Dean let out a long sigh and looked up to the ceiling, not seeing the amusement in it like Jody was. Grumbling, Dean stomped off towards his room, opening the door with maybe too much vigor, and going still in the doorway. Sure enough, Cas was there. 

 

He was perched on the bed, fiddling with his phone and looking altogether too relaxed to match Dean’s annoyance. Cas looked up, clearly pleased to see him, and Dean yanked the door closed. Swallowing thickly as he leaned back against it, his stomach churning as he realized what he was about to do. They’d had sex; he should be able to ask him out. Despite that, Dean couldn't help but feel nervous. 

 

“Alright, I’m gonna ask you something,” Dean started, clearing his throat. “It’s totally cool if you say no. I understand if- Well, I’ll just ask.”

 

Cas sat up, his attention caught as he said, “I’m listening.”

 

“Sam and Eileen are going on their third date, and they want us to come with them. As in, they want to double date,” Dean blurted out, his eyes shifting from side to side. 

 

“What about you?” Cas asked carefully, tilting his head. “Would you be interested in going on a date with me, Dean?”

 

“I… Fuck, of course I would go on a date with you,” Dean mumbled, his head ducking as he felt heat bleed into his face. “You’re my… We’re together, right? That’s what couples do.”

 

“Yes, but is it something you want?” Cas asked seriously. 

 

“Eating food with you, being all soft, playin’ footsie,” Dean listed off, his smile weak. “What else is there to want?”

 

“Are you...nervous, Dean?” Cas murmured in open awe, clearly surprised as he realized that Dean was blushing like a schoolgirl. 

 

“No,” Dean denied automatically, averting his eyes as Cas stood up and walked up to him, reaching out to grab the sides of his face gently. 

 

“There is no reason to be nervous, Dean,” Cas assured him, leaning forward to graze his lips across Dean’s cheek, letting his next words blow hotly against the shell of Dean’s ear. “I think it will be a very  _ lovely  _ night.”

 

Chills crawled down Dean’s spine; he blinked rapidly as Cas pulled away. Smirking, Cas swept past him to go get ready, and Dean was left to stand stupidly in the center of his room, telling his heart to calm the fuck down. It didn't work, and Dean couldn't help but think Cas was right. It  _ was  _ going to be a lovely night. 

 

* * *

 

Cas was trying to keep calm. 

 

It was considerably hard to do with Dean’s fingers laced casually through his as they followed Sam and Eileen towards the restaurant. Cas had no idea who initiated the contact, but his heart had not calmed down since it happened. Dean, for all his earlier nervousness, looked perfectly at ease. It was...infuriating. 

 

Sam and Eileen looked happy. They swapped a lot of smiles, their hands moving at speeds that Dean couldn't seem to catch. At first, Sam had been obviously nervous, like Dean, but the more time with the object of his affections, the more relaxed he was. Cas glanced over at Dean, taking in his easy gait and calm smile. Maybe, that was why Dean’s nervousness had vanished. The thought made Cas’ heart squeeze. 

 

“Sammy,” Dean called out, tugging Cas closer to himself, “me and Cas are gonna go on the patio while you grab us a table.”

 

“Mhm,” Sam said, barely paying him any mind.

 

“Why are we breaking from them?” Cas asked, but he let Dean pull him out the side door, fresh air blowing across his face. 

 

“I wanted to talk to you about something, but I don't want Sam to know. Not yet, at least. I already know how he’ll feel about it, but I’m not sure about you,” Dean explained, letting his hand fall as he moved over to lean against the rail. When Cas didn't come any closer, Dean reached out and tugged him in until they were hovering in each others space, and Cas felt the tension leave his shoulders. “Jeez, Cas, you don't have to stand so far away. C’mere.”

 

“Sorry,” Cas apologized, throwing all caution to the wind as he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Dean’s cheek. “I'm used to staying back from you. Personal space, remember?”

 

“That was a long time ago,” Dean chuckled, reaching out to loosely grab the lapels of Cas’ trench coat. “I was into you, even back then, but it was mostly sexual. I didn't like the idea of feeling attracted to an angel, so I fought it.”

 

“I fell in love with you in hell,” Cas whispered, looking down at Dean’s fingers as they fiddled with his buttons. 

 

Cas was terrified to say it, sure that when he looked up, Dean would be gone in a heartbeat, or he’d suddenly change his mind. He knew he had to say it, though. He had to tell Dean while he was brave enough, even at the possible cost of himself, because Dean deserved to hear it. 

 

“I know,” Dean replied quietly. “I saw. I, uh, went through hell again in my dreams right after you died. Spent four months in hell. It was real, wasn't it? Me torturing you? Me begging to touch you? You’re true face, your wings, your grace. All of it really happened, didn't it?”

 

“Yes,” Cas answered, remembering all too well how the righteous man had ripped him apart on the table, until Cas had shown him the truth. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Dean told him, raising his gaze to look at Cas seriously. 

 

“You are not that man, Dean,” Cas said fiercely, frowning at Dean’s obvious self hatred. 

 

It was not fair for Dean to feel guilty for something that didn't define them anymore. Cas reached up to glide a finger across Dean’s cheek, enjoying the softness of the skin, and Dean leaned into the touch. It was a tender moment, and Cas slowly let his hand fall, moving closer to press his cheek against Dean’s. Hands came up to curl around Cas, and he leaned into it, the feeling of comfort making him overwhelmed. 

 

“You make me feel so different,” Dean whispered into his neck. “You always have. I’ve tried, but I was never the same man after you walked into that barn nine years ago. Now, we all have Jack, Sam has Eileen, Claire is here, and we’re together. Everything is so different, but I feel the exact same I’ve always felt for you. I’m just not scared of it anymore.”

 

“We’ve been doing this dance for a really long time,” Cas agreed, brushing his lips over Dean’s forehead, his heart flipping in his chest at the freedom he had. 

 

“That’s all I know how to do anymore,” Dean huffed, pulling back and staring at Cas with obvious conflict in his face. “I just overdo things until it ends badly. I mean, not you - I’m so not talking about you - but in general.”

 

“What do you mean?” Cas asked curiously, focusing his gaze on Dean and trying to work out what exactly he was getting at. “Is this what you brought me out here to talk about?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean admitted, his hands fidgeting with the tie around Cas’ throat. “I wanted to know what you felt about...retiring?”

 

“From hunting?” Cas asked slowly, his mind coming to a screeching halt. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, clearing his throat and shuffling slightly in place. 

 

“Is that what you want?” Cas murmured, being careful as he tried to make sure Dean wouldn't grow offended. “Do you truly wish to retire, or do you think you have to now? Do you think it is what’s expected of you?”

 

“Both?” Dean laughed awkwardly, the word as much of a question as it was an answer. “I’m not sure, honestly. Hunting is my life, and I love it. Yet, it’s exhausting, and there is Jack to consider. We can't leave him behind, Cas.”

 

“What about something like Bobby or Ellen?” Cas suggested lightly, doing his best to contribute to the issue. “Maybe, you can gather up the hunting community again and give them a sort of safe haven full of knowledge. Take a few cases whenever you get the urge, but otherwise focus on helping out the hunter community. Maybe work on their cars as they pass through, give them a few helpful tips, and keep the base here.” 

 

Dean blinked, staring at Cas in obvious surprise. Cas wasn't sure what the look was, but he felt proud anyway. Dean continued to stare at him in silence for a few more moments, eyes never wavering from his. He felt compelled to stand there and never move again. 

 

“You're a fucking genius,” Dean breathed after a few moments of silence. 

 

“Do you like that alternative?” Cas asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

 

“I know it will take time and effort, but I don't see why it couldn't happen,” Dean said, taking a deep breath and shifting slightly. “I actually  _ do  _ like that idea.”

 

“Why haven't you told Sam about your worries?” Cas murmured in curiosity. 

 

“Because, I know him. He’d be all gung ho for it and then, I’d feel guilty and do what he wanted rather than what I needed,” Dean explained, shrugging awkwardly. 

 

“That’s rather insightful of you,” Cas noted, his eyebrows jumping at Dean’s shameless words.

 

“Yeah, well, me and Sam talked about it, and we’re incredibly dependant upon each other, to the point it’s a little extreme,” Dean admitted unapologetically. “We’re gonna work on it. I’m starting by focusing on my needs before following what he wants for me. I mean, he told me to do that, but I’m trying.”

 

“It’s a hard life you two lived for a very long time. Constantly losing each other, only having each other, and focused on protecting each other… It was not easy for either of you,” Cas told him gently, reaching up to play with Dean’s collar. 

 

“It’s why I had to make a decision before I talked to him. I have to be settled in what I want before I can bring it to his attention,” Dean said, sighing and leaning forward to let his forehead thunk against Cas’ with a small tap. 

 

“Are you going to talk to him about it soon?” 

 

“Yeah, but not now. Tonight is all about the dating.”

 

“Oh,” Cas chuckled, reeling back to stare at Dean in amusement, “is it? Just how are we going to focus on all the dating, Dean?”

 

“Well, we can start by finding our table and playing footsie underneath it,” Dean teased, moving to stand beside Cas and lead them into the restaurant. 

 

“You're really stuck on the whole playing footsie thing,” Cas mused, reaching out to take Dean’s hand in his, a thrill shooting through him because he was allowed to do that now. 

 

“It’s like the peak of any relationship. If we don't do it, are we even really dating?” 

 

“Well, I would hope so. Surely, a little nudging of limbs doesn't define every relationship.”

 

Dean’s face split into a wide grin as they approached their table. Cas was entirely focused on the light in Dean’s eyes, and how genuinely happy he looked. He didn't think it was possible, had never imagined a scenario where they were happy and... _ involved.  _

 

“That’s just a small part of it,” Dean chuckled, breaking their hands and winking playfully as they moved to sit down.

 

“We already ordered drinks for you guys,” Sam told them lightly, leaning back to let his arm crawl around the back of Eileen’s chair, his fingers brushing her shoulder. 

 

“Castiel,” Eileen said with a wide smile, her lisp barely noticeable, “I’m glad to finally meet you.”

 

“Same to you,” Cas replied, his fingers moving as he spoke. “Sam speaks highly of you.”

 

“Man, I really need to learn that,” Dean muttered, offering a weak smile to Eileen. “How have you been? I heard you were going to Germany.”

 

Eileen shot a faint look of amusement towards Sam before nodding. Her cheeks were lit up, and her smile was almost too sweet. Cas tilted his head, staring at her. She had a very bright soul, and it appeared even prettier in Sam’s presence.  _ ‘That's love’,  _ Cas thought to himself, and his eyes skittered over to Dean.

 

“The view was better in America,” Eileen laughed, her eyes narrowing playfully on Sam as he blushed and shifted in his seat. 

 

“I’ll have to agree,” Cas found himself saying, blinking innocently when Dean’s head jerked over towards him, his eyes wide and mouth open. “It truly is.”

 

It was incredibly strange and ridiculously powerful to fluster Dean Winchester. Watching the red bloom beneath his freckles was enough to have Cas promising to himself to flirt more. Eileen cackled, Sam looked relieved to have the heat away from him, and Dean just didn't seem to know what to say, or where to put his eyes. 

 

“This,” Sam announced gleefully, “was a great idea.”

 

Dean looked up at Cas through his lashes, and Cas was pretty sure his heart was going far too fast. Green eyes locked onto his, a promise in the gaze, and Cas found himself agreeing with Sam. As the date progressed, he felt the solid edge of a boot crawl up his ankle, and Cas smiled into the food he wasn't eating, thinking vaguely - as he nudged Dean back - that if he were to have a soul, his would be much brighter around Dean. 


	25. Chapter 25

“Well, there he goes,” Dean sighed, watching the retreat of Sam and Eileen’s backs as they walked towards her car. “He’s gonna marry that girl and have loads of kids.”

 

“Do you not approve?” Cas asked, leaning back against Baby, his arms crossed and a look of curiosity on his face. 

 

“What?” Dean blurted, whipping around and looking mildly offended. “I like Eileen. She’s great. I approve of them. Why wouldn't I approve of them?”

 

“I don't think you disapprove, per say. Maybe you worry that Sam will move on from you and live a life entirely separate from your own. Maybe you worry that you won't be able to live a good life like you assume he will,” Cas suggested lightly, fully aware that he was pushing Dean for some sort of information he might not have been ready to share. 

 

“Don't do that,” Dean huffed, stomping over to the driver’s side door and jabbing a finger at Cas in annoyance. “Don't make me think about those things more than I already am, okay? This was date night. It went good; I don't want it to be ruined.”

 

“Dean,” Cas said gently, bracing his arms on the roof of the car and peering over his sleeves seriously, “I suggest that you put it from your mind. Sam loves you, and his life will always include you. Imagine him having kids, Dean. They will adore you, and I know you will be a big part of their lives.”

 

Dean pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Cas, making a face that Cas was unable to decipher. Without a word, Dean yanked open the door and slid into the car, and Cas followed suit. They rode off towards the bunker in silence, and Cas felt his heart shrivel in his chest. Though he'd only hoped to bring comfort, somehow - as usual - Cas had managed to screw things up and upset Dean. 

 

“What about me?” Dean whispered after the silence had stretched between them to the point that Cas almost didn't connect the question to the previous conversation. 

 

“What about you?” Cas asked slowly. 

 

“What if my future doesn't turn out like that?”

 

“With children and a wife?”

 

“No, I just mean…” Dean trailed off and took a deep breath, shooting Cas a quick look. “What if my future doesn't end up happy?” 

 

“You're future is what you make it,” Cas said solemnly, sighing quietly. “For certain, I never imagined that my life would've led me here from the perspective of me nine years ago, and yet, here I am. I made it so, and I'm certain you can do the same. What do you believe will bring you happiness, Dean?” 

 

“Honestly?” Dean asked quietly, swallowing thickly and tightening his grip on the steering wheel as they turned swiftly into the bunker’s garage. “You.” 

 

Dean threw Baby into park, and Cas simply stared at him. It was a sight to behold. Dean looked nervous and light, a soft hesitation floating around him. Cas fought to breathe, stunned by Dean's gentle declaration. Surely, Dean knew he had no reason to be hesitant? Cas undoubtedly, obviously loved him - is in love with him - and Dean must've known. 

 

“Dean,” Cas murmured, feeling his face break down and soften, “there are many things that can turn your future towards happiness.” 

 

“I know that, Cas, I do. Just- Just listen to me, okay?” Dean insisted, scooting closer to Cas’ and reaching over to grab his hand. “The future full of happiness that Sam's gonna get; it's because of Eileen. I mean, he's gonna have a whole lot of other factors, but Eileen is what's going to push him into it, y'know?” 

 

“I understand,” Cas murmured, not quite sure that he did. 

 

“No, I don't think you do. When you see a future with someone, like a  _ real  _ future, you kinda start striving for all the good things that push you towards that. You gotta want it. It leads you to all kinds of shit.”

 

“You see a future with me, then?”

 

“I- Yeah, Cas,” Dean muttered, blowing out a breath and looking at him seriously. “I think I always have, even before I realized all...this. I just looked forward and always pictured you there. Not much difference, except there's a lot more sex than I imagined.” 

 

Cas was mystified by Dean's easy response. He looked nervous - as any man would when basically professing love - but there was no shame in his words. He was not hesitant, or scared, to admit that he saw a future together. It surprised Cas, and made him think that things truly were changing. 

 

“I must admit,” Cas mused lightly, looking down at their intertwined fingers, “I find myself shocked by your actions lately. You've been...open. Don't be alarmed by that, Dean. I have never witnessed this side of you before, but I can assure you that I've grown to like it, just as I do every other part.” 

 

“Cas, man, I'm so beyond that point. To put it mildly, I was not well when you were gone. Realizing what I'd lost, then getting you back - having another chance - it means the world to me,” Dean admitted simply. “There are some things that you just can't fuck around with, y'know? I was bit way too many times to just stick my hand back out there again.” 

 

“You've grown so much,” Cas sighed, looking up to peer at Dean fondly. 

 

“Only took nine years,” Dean teased, his eyes crinkling as he grinned. 

 

“You're a bit slow, I'll admit,” Cas shot back playfully, biting back a smile and opening the door to duck out the car when Dean's mouth popped open in shock. 

 

“Did you just... _ mock  _ me?” Dean sputtered, scrambling out the car and staring at Cas over the roof. 

 

“No, of course not,” Cas denied, waving a hand and starting towards the door that would let them in the bunker. 

 

“You totally were,” Dean chuckled, moving over to knock their shoulders together. 

 

“Some say mockery is an attempt at flirting, did you know?” Cas asked lightly, opening the door and stepping in before Dean could process that fully. 

 

He walked in, leaving Dean behind to work through that, and looked around in confusion. As he walked through the rooms, he realized that everyone must have gone to bed. Dean eventually caught up to him as he started down the hallway to his room. 

 

“Cas,” Dean hissed, reaching out and catching his hand, “one date and suddenly you're smooth and  _ flirtatious? _ When- How… Who told you to do that?” 

 

“No one,” Cas said honestly and tilted his head. “I'm not doing anything. Perhaps, you're biased suddenly.” 

 

“Oh God, I  _ am, _ ” Dean breathed, looking mildly horrified. 

 

“Is that a bad thing?” 

 

“We're going to be  _ that  _ couple. You're gonna do something undeniably dorky or awkward, and I'm just gonna eat it up.” 

 

“I was under the impression that it’s how it's always been,” Cas told him, arching his eyebrows. “Or, did you not realize?” 

 

“Holy shit,” Dean blurted, gaping at Cas in blatant surprise. “I'm your bitch. I'm totally your bitch. I've always been your bitch. Why didn't I know this? Cas _ ,  _ how did this  _ happen _ ?” 

 

Cas felt the corner of his lips curl up, and he realized that Dean's words held a bit of merit. Sadly, it was only partially true. Cas was well aware that he was as much of Dean's  _ ‘bitch’ _ as Dean was his. Fortunately, Dean hadn't seemed to realize that yet. 

 

“I saved you from hell,” Cas told him, blinking owlishly. “Probably started from there.” 

 

“ _ Fuck, _ ” Dean cursed, mortified. 

 

For some reason, Dean's expression pleased him, and Cas couldn't help but smile. Dean caught it and huffed, rolling his eyes. He felt the warmth blooming in his chest that had always been associated with Dean, and he didn't even hesitate to follow when Dean jerked his head at him, guiding him to Dean’s room. 

 

Dean's fingers crawled back to latch on his wrist, tugging him along. Cas marveled at the way Dean let his fingers intertwine easily with Cas’. By the time Cas was fully in Dean’s room, his brain was so scrambled that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. Dean whirled around, crowding close, and reached with his free hand to shut the door with a soft click, an intense look on his face. 

 

“Dean.”

 

Cas hadn't even been aware he was talking, and his voice sure didn't sound like his own. It was breathy, short, and rough. Dean's eyes dipped down to look at his mouth, and then it hit Cas what was happening. 

 

Cas was aware he was sometimes emotionally stunted, unable to fully understand atmospheres or social cues, and most times it didn't bother him. This time? It drove him nuts to realize that Dean had been flirting in return, had been insinuating a bit more, and he'd missed it. 

 

However, Cas was not afraid to act whenever he did manage to catch the mood. Without hesitation, or warning, Cas surged forward to press his lips against Dean’s. It shouldn't have felt this good, considering that it was just two mouths pressed together, but the swipe of Dean’s tongue always stirred a tingle in his pelvis. It was obviously arousal, and the sensation really intrigued Cas. He enjoyed it and wasn't ashamed to chase after it. 

 

“Cas, Cas,” Dean laughed, leaning back and smiling at Cas, his chest rising and lowering at a rapid rate, “there’s no rush; we can go slow.”

 

“We can go slow next time,” Cas said, just as he did the last time, displeased at the notion that he would have to pace himself. 

 

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, his amusement palpable. Cas realized Dean was laughing at him, and his eyes narrowed. Shoving Dean towards the bed, Cas started tugging at Dean’s shirt, yanking it off his head before moving to the belt. Dean was still laughing, and Cas couldn't have that, so he pressed close and shut him up with a kiss. 

 

Dean’s laughter tapered off, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, apparently really enjoying the lip-biting Cas had mastered. Dean bowed closer, his hands moving up Cas’ arms and carding through his hair. It felt nice, made Cas’ mind fuzzy. 

 

Dean broke the kiss - maybe to say something, maybe not - but before he could do anything else, Cas reached out and shoved him down on the bed. Dean bounced up with a little breathless laugh of amazement, but before he could fully land, Cas was on him.

 

“C-  _ Cas, _ ” Dean breathed, blinking rapidly as Cas took it upon himself to lean down and taste the skin over his collarbones. 

 

Cas didn't answer, didn't really want to. His lips were otherwise occupied with the expanse of skin he was mapping out, and he felt a thrill run through him every time Dean arched or shivered under his touch. It was exhilarating to draw such reactions from Dean, and with that in mind, he pushed his hand down against the bulge in Dean’s jeans. 

 

Dean let out a loud groan, arching up against the friction, and Cas slowly dragged his hand back up before pushing back down. After a few strokes of that whilst his tongue had found a nipple to lap lightly at, Cas decided he wanted it to be skin on skin. Ignoring the disappointed moan Dean gave, he quickly peeled off his layers, almost ripping his socks in the urgency to get them off. Once naked, Cas moved to yank Dean’s pants off. 

 

“I enjoy these jeans on you, but they are far too hard to slide off,” Cas noted grumpily, jerking the pants from Dean’s legs. 

 

Dean sat up and helped get out of his underwear, using the new position to get his hand around Cas’ dick. Cas hissed at the sensation, eyes fluttering for a moment as Dean’s hands stuttered against his dry skin and squeezed. 

 

He jerked back and pushed Dean to the bed, his fingers splayed wide against his chest. Dean settled back with a weak whimper, eyes wide as Cas bent down to close his mouth around the tip of Dean’s dick. 

 

Encouraged, Cas bobbed his head until he could feel a blunt nudge at the back of his throat. Experimentally, Cas hollowed out his cheeks and swallowed, making Dean garble something out, his hands reaching down to grasp Cas’ hair as he curled in on himself. Cas was thoroughly entertained by Dean’s reaction, and he continued to bob his head and swallow, breathing shortly through his nose. 

 

“Oh shit,” Dean panted, swallowing thickly and tossing his head back. “Fuck, Cas, you have to stop. I’m gonna- Cas, I can't-”

 

Cas came up for air with a very comical ‘ _ pop _ ’ and blinked as Dean twitched on the bed, his chest heaving as if he'd just ran a marathon. Now, Cas realized, he was the one laughing. Dean let out a slow whine, blinking up at Cas in awe. 

 

“That's very enjoyable,” Cas murmured, eyeing Dean as if he was a particular juicy steak. Dean groaned and tossed his head back, his hand coming up to cover his face. 

 

“Of course, you would have no gag reflex, and totally be down to give head all the time. Shit, you're going to be the death of me, aren't you, Cas?” Dean moaned pitifully. 

 

“I sincerely hope not,” Cas hummed, leaning over to reach into Dean's drawer and grab the lube swiftly. “Now, hush.” 

 

“Do you want me to…” Dean trailed off, biting his lip and looking uncertain. 

 

“I want to,” Cas said seriously. 

 

“I can get up and-” 

 

“No. I wish to be on top.” 

 

Dean stared at him, and his throat clicked when he swallowed. His eyes were wide, staring up at Cas as if he'd never seen him before. Cas hoped he hadn't come off too strong, but there was an... _ intensity _ within him that he couldn't escape. Dean's assurances that they could go slow - that he could take the lead - weren't an insult at all, but Cas needed to do this for all the years of building tension between them. 

 

“How do you want to…” Dean trailed off again, nodding towards the lube in question. 

 

“I've done it to you,” Cas murmured, flicking the lid open. “I can prepare myself if you do not wish to do so.” 

 

“I can,” Dean blurted, clearing his throat. Cas watched as Dean's dick bobbed almost eagerly, realizing Dean  _ wanted  _ to. 

 

“Okay,” Cas agreed, passing over the lube and moving along Dean's body to straddle him, scooting up so that Dean could reach around at the right angle. 

 

It was awkward and there was fumbling, but as soon as Dean's finger moved to where it needed to go, Cas arched his back and pressed a kiss to Dean's lips. Dean hummed into it, eyes flickering closed. Cas let himself focus on the kiss, but he was quickly distracted as Dean slowly inserted a finger. 

 

It was...strange. It didn't hurt necessarily, and it didn't feel good either. So, he focused back on the kiss, his arousal thickening when Dean's tongue dragged across his. As the kiss grew more heated and Dean's finger slipped in and out more easily, Cas realized his arousal was stirring from two different points. 

 

Dean reached down to grab Cas’ dick, lightly tugging at it as he worked another finger in. There was a burn then, a stretch that intrigued Cas. It almost hurt, but not drastically so, and with Dean pawing at his dick, it wasn't overwhelming. 

 

As Dean's fingers glided in and out smoothly, the stretching sensation morphed into something more pleasurable. Cas was mystified at how it had gradually changed, at how gently Dean had led him to newer sensation. Cas pulled back from the kiss, his breath growing short, and panted mindlessly into Dean's neck. 

 

“Are you okay?” Dean asked softly, choosing that moment to rotate his wrist for a new angle and curl his fingers. 

 

“Dean,” Cas moaned, his own reaction shocking him as pleasure tap danced up his spine, “don't stop doing that.” 

 

Dean obliged him, pressing into him over and over until his fingers met no resistance. The sensation dulled, and Cas was barely aware of himself as he helplessly ground down on Dean's fingers, searching for more. 

 

“Tell me when-” 

 

“Now.” 

 

Cas didn't wait for Dean to react. He sat up and reached back, knocking Dean's hand away. Dean opened his mouth, a clear warning perched on his lips, but Cas was far too eager to hear it. He was stunned by the desire he felt, curious at how he'd succumbed to such a feeling. Yet, he couldn't deny how right it felt.  

 

Cas arched again, reaching around to grasp Dean's dick and pour lube over it just in case. Dean bucked into his hand almost helplessly as he smoothed the lube up and down. Then, without warning, Cas shifted back into position and slowly sank down. 

 

“Cas, wait- Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Dean tried, his words choking as Cas cranked his way down. 

 

This stretch and burn was significantly greater than two fingers, but Cas took his time. He let himself adjust, let the pain ebb away, and once there was nothing but fullness, he met Dean's eyes. They stared at each other, silent and still, something passing between them. 

 

“I'm going to move now,” Cas said. 

 

It was the only warning he was going to give. Cas rocked his hips experimentally, and the pain wasn't as noticeable. He slowly pulled himself up, feeling the drag of their bodies, and Dean let out a shaky sigh. 

 

Cas curled his hips in slightly and rocked back, his body sinking down slowly. The pain was barely there at that point, and Cas felt it was time to chase the friction he'd earlier craved. He met Dean's eyes, taking in the hooded gaze, and lifted his hips before slamming them down abruptly. 

 

Dean choked, his eyes bulging as his fist clenched into the covers. Power seeped into Cas, and he kept the pace. Drawing up slowly before rocking back down quickly. The push was agonizing, yet so satisfying. Cas could feel the heat pooling into his abdomen, could feel the tingles shooting through him. 

 

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, his hands coming up to grasp Cas’ hips as his head fell back. 

 

Cas reached down and grabbed Dean's wrists, pushing them up above his head and using his hips to provide their pleasure. Dean's eyes flickered shut, his head falling to the side with a whine. Cas was elated by the sound, something so beautiful in Dean's pleasure he couldn't help but love. He dipped his head and licked a line up Dean's throat, tracing back down with his hot breath. 

 

“I like the sounds you make,” Cas whispered honestly before he pressed his lips to Dean's neck and sucked, marking him. 

 

“Cas, I can't- Fuck, I can't breathe… It's so good, so good,” Dean garbled, his words halting and mindless, no doubt just escaping him without much thought. “Please, please don't stop. Never stop.” 

 

Cas’ hips jerked as Dean's pleas left him even more aroused. The angle shifted, and there was a cascading heat that washed through him, ecstasy shooting within him so rapidly that he released a low moan. Cas sped up, chasing the feeling, grunting as he struggled to find it. 

 

“That was…” Cas paused, sure that he wouldn't be able to explain what that was, not that Dean appeared in mind to listen anyway. 

 

Cas pressed down and rocked back, the feeling pouring through him again. His mind emptied, and his eyes drifted closed as tingles raced all over him. At Cas’ increased rocking, Dean started to wheeze, whines and moans escaping at random intervals. 

 

“Please, please, please,” Dean chanted, his hands twisting in Cas’ grip to intertwine their fingers, holding on tightly. 

 

Heat built between them, and Dean's body grew sticky with sweat. Tension coiled within Cas, and he rolled his hips, slowing his pace to feel the drag of Dean slowly entering him. Dean's breath escaped him in a gasp, and his head swiveled towards him. Green eyes, wide and foggy, stared up at Cas, begging him to keep going. Cas slowly rolled his hips again, pushing his own dick against Dean's abdomen.

 

“You wanted to go slow, didn't you?” Cas asked breathlessly, feeling the anticipation cloud around them. 

 

“You feel so good,” Dean moaned, his hands breaking free eagerly, and crawled up to settle against Cas’ chest, nails digging in as Cas started the pace back up. 

 

Again, the tension built, racing towards a breaking point. Everything felt tight to Cas: his skin, his lungs, his mind. They perched on the edge, simultaneous moans bouncing off each other. Gradually, Cas slowed again, taking them back from release slowly. 

 

“Never stop, you said?” Cas teased, his lips quirking up as Dean's nails dug into his skin. 

 

“Cas, I need-  _ Please _ , keep going,” Dean whimpered, his eyes screwing shut as Cas gingerly rolled his hips. 

 

Cas leaned down and caught Dean's lips with his own, pressing his chest against Dean's, forcing his hands away and rocking back and forth. His dick caught between them, Dean's sweat-slicked skin kneading him. Pleasure assaulted him from each side, and Cas knew he nor Dean could take much more.

 

“There are no words for how good you make me feel, Dean,” Cas growled out, breaking their kiss and brushing his lips over Dean's ear, whispering roughly to him. 

 

Dean might've replied, but his words clogged his throat as Cas rolled his hips rapidly. Dean threw his head back, pleas falling from his lips as his back arched off the bed. The tension gathered again, and pleasure built within Cas so quickly that he was almost afraid of what would happen when it snapped. 

 

“Fuck, yes yes yes,” Dean chanted, eyes closed tightly. “Faster, fuck, please. Just- Just like that, Cas… I'm gonna-  _ Oh, fuck _ .” 

 

Dean's words hiccuped out of him, and Cas saw tears leak from the corner of his eyes. Knowing it felt so good, making Dean cry, had Cas overcome with pleasure. 

 

A few more pleas, and Dean's hips jerked. The friction rubbed Cas just the right way, and everything went still. They both locked up simultaneously, their breath freezing in their chests as they fell over the edge. Hot stickiness painted Dean's stomach, and Cas clenched around Dean as he came. Dean was right there with him, his dick twitching as he came inside Cas.

 

They rode out their orgasms together, so still and silent it was almost concerning. Cas couldn't move or speak, though. As pleasure spread throughout his body, relaxing him, everything felt distant and floaty. Sated and calm, he tried to catch his breath. 

 

Dean's arms locked around him, and Cas landed right into the mess he made. It didn't matter though, because Dean was crying. He was shaking almost violently and clutching at Cas like he was a national treasure. 

 

“Dean?” Cas whispered, lifting his head and peering up at Dean. 

 

“I love you,” Dean announced, blinking rapidly as he fought his tears. “Fuck, Cas, I love you so much. You have no idea.” 

 

Cas’ whole existence centered around that one moment. Everything he was ever made for no longer mattered. He was sure of nothing else but the truth in Dean's eyes, and he knew his purpose was to love Dean Winchester, to cherish him.

 

“I love you,” Cas replied softly, scooting up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

 

Dean sniffled and let Cas go, reaching up to rub at his red face. Cas sat up and shakily started towards the bathroom to grab a washrag, and washed his face, ass, and stomach. As he looked up at the mirror, he was stunned by the man he saw. 

 

His hair was haphazard and his eyes bright, his whole aura seeping with love. There was something else too, something he'd never witnessed in his reflection before.

 

A soul, bright yet meek, peeked at the edges, forming rapidly. He knew what it meant, knew that souls were for humans. It suggested that the mere act of what he'd just done was causing him to fall. If he were to continue, he'd soon no longer be an angel. 

 

Cas stared down at the cloth in his hands, twisting it as his mind whirled. The notion should've scared him, should've pushed him to a decision that would greater benefit those he loved in the end. After all, if he wasn't an angel, how could he help? 

 

Walking back into the room, he stared at Dean. He was asleep, mouth open wide as light snores escaped him. He was relaxed, no weight on his shoulders. Carefully so as not to wake Dean up, he used the washrag to clean the mess, his throat bobbing. 

 

Cas always knew he was a selfish creature. 


	26. Chapter 26

Time seemed suspended for Dean, somehow frozen on snippets of moments full to the brim of joy. Claire's smile, Sam's laughter, Jack's joy, and Cas’ love. Little moments that Dean had wanted his whole life, taking over the rush of his lifestyle and holding it hostage. 

 

It was good,  _ too good.  _

 

Dean knew it eventually had to end, but he wasn't welcome to the idea. Unfortunately, the time came sooner than he would've liked. 

 

Eventually, Jody had to go back to work, as did Donna. Dean talked about it with Jack, noting his sadness at their need to leave. Alex worked at a hospital, and despite her reluctance, she, too, had to go. 

 

Cas cornered Dean the day before the girls were supposed to go. With wide eyes and a near heartbreaking plea, he asked Dean if Claire and Kaia could stay. Before Cas could promise that he'd handle all the responsibility, Dean was already saying yes, willing to give him whatever he wanted. 

 

Cas asked Claire, and she agreed to extend the stay as long as Kaia was also welcome. Jack was cheered up by this news, but still followed Alex around miserably before she left. Sad as it was, Dean couldn't help but find the display endearing. Before they left, they gave their goodbyes and promises to return for Christmas. They'd all agreed to meet at Jody’s for thanksgiving to enjoy a family meal. 

 

Alex bestowed Jack with a gentle kiss to his cheek, a pretty smile, and an oath to visit in between. Jack still held his cheek long after they had left. Dean had clapped him on the shoulder, and distracted him as best he could with pizza and board games. 

 

It wasn't the same, but it was still good. 

 

Sam spent a lot of time with Eileen, bringing her to the bunker more often as they continued to date. Her and Kaia hit it off well as Kaia knew sign language. Apparently, her last girlfriend was deaf, and she'd learned. Watching Kaia and Claire go over that little moment was hilarious. Claire was jealous, and Kaia had simply sighed heavily, promising Claire that she loved her only. Claire's blush had Dean cackling in amusement. 

 

Before Dean knew it, it had been a little over a month since he'd been on a hunt. He wondered if anyone else noticed, if they felt the same itch he usually did after it had been too long. Maybe it was just being in the bunker, and having no reason to leave. 

 

With that in mind, he sought out Sam. Like the nerd he was, Sam was in the library. He looked content to sit where he was and read, no issues with going so long without hunting. Dean bit his lip and hesitated, his earlier worries starting to crawl through his mind. 

 

“Dean?” Sam asked, noticing him as he looked up from his book. “You alright?” 

 

“Honestly Sammy, I'm getting a little stir crazy in here,” Dean admitted, circling a finger and clearing his throat. “Figured you might to want to go on a hunt, or if not, we could go on that fishing trip we talked about.” 

 

Relief flooded in Sam's face, and he slammed his book closed. He sat up eagerly, eyes wide with sudden excitement. Fishing trip it was, Dean assumed. Ah, what the hell? Brother bonding trip sounded just as freeing as a hunt. 

 

“Dude,  _ yes, _ ” Sam blurted, hopping to his feet and sitting the book down. “Eileen and I agreed not to hunt together yet, and I'm starting to go a little stir crazy myself.” 

 

“Wait,” Dean muttered, eyebrows jerking up in surprise, “you want to go on a hunt? I thought- I dunno, man, I just assumed you wouldn't want to anymore.” 

 

“Dean, I'm not twenty anymore,” Sam said with a smile. “I never hated hunting to begin with. I just hated that dad despised me for going to college instead. I wanted a shot at normal, and dad didn't want that for me. Now I know I'm not normal, and hunting will always be apart of my life.” 

 

“What's Eileen think about that?” Dean asked. 

 

“She agreed,” Sam hummed, his face lighting up at the mention of his girlfriend. “She likes hunting too. We did talk about quitting or just being like Bobby if we ever have kids, or something like that.” 

 

“Kids!  _ Whoo,  _ buddy,” Dean burst out, whistling low. “You've already talked about kids? Must be pretty damn serious.” 

 

“It is, but that was the only time we brought up kids,” Sam said quickly, eyes going wide. 

 

“You want kids?” Dean asked cautiously. 

 

“I mean… I never considered it? Our lives never exactly allowed for it. Eileen told me she does, one day, and I'm fine with that. One day, just not right now,” Sam admitted. 

 

“Well, that's awesome, man,” Dean exclaimed, surprised by how genuine he felt. Truthfully, Dean was kind of excited. “I'm gonna be an uncle. Oh man, me and Cas are gonna spoil the hell outta your kids.” 

 

“Yeah?” Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. “Well, you have a bit of a wait before then.” 

 

“Don't wait too long,” Dean warned mockingly, pointing at him. “I want some nieces and nephews pretty soon.”

 

“What about me?” Sam countered, arching an eyebrow. “When are you and Cas gonna give me a niece or nephew? Why do I have to be first? You're older, you know.” 

 

“Dunno if you noticed, Sammy, but both me and Cas have dicks and no uterus, so you  _ ain't  _ getting a niece or nephew,” Dean told him, spreading his hands wide and shrugging. 

 

“You could always adopt, asshat,” Sam huffed, crossing his arms. 

 

“Um,” Dean choked. 

 

The notion slapped Dean in the face, sending him reeling. Yeah, Jack and Claire - even Kaia - were under their care, like their kids. That's as far as Dean let it go usually, never taking the time to consider raising a baby with Cas. Mostly, it slipped his mind because he and Cas couldn't reproduce, so it wasn't something they had to worry about. 

 

But... _ adoption. _

 

He'd never thought about, never let the idea be something to chew over. He didn't know why, but it hadn't seemed like an option. Sam, the bitch, had tossed it out there like a monkey-wrench, letting it fuck Dean up. 

 

What if Cas wanted that? Did  _ Dean _ want that? How would their pseudo kids take it? Could they even handle a baby? Would they tell their kid about hunting? Was it fair to try to raise a baby in their lifestyle? 

 

Dean's mind ran rapid with questions. Panic gripped him, and Dean swayed where he stood. He could feel all the blood drain from his face, and he realized that he had no idea what the fuck he wanted that far into his future. How the fuck was he supposed to aim for a happy future if he didn't know what the fuck would make him happy besides Cas? 

 

“Dean,” Sam said, reaching over to snap his fingers in Dean's face, “come back to me, man. Chill out, I was just joking. You've got plenty of time to worry about that, okay?” 

 

“Fuck, I need to kill something,” Dean moaned pitifully, reaching up to drag and hand over his face. He ached for the simplicity in that.

 

“I feel you,” Sam chuckled, looking far too amused for Dean's state of mind. “Come on, lets go tell everyone we'll be back in a few days. We could do for some time away.” 

 

“You're fucking telling me.” 

 

* * *

 

The werewolf gargled on his own blood as Dean snatched the silver knife from his throat. His eyes were wide, glowing with his earlier anger. Slowly, they dimmed, and Dean watched as his life slipped away. 

 

“Sammy,” Dean yelled, whirling around to witness a head roll by his feet, landing face-up a few steps away with shock still slapped on his expression. “Well, nevermind.” 

 

“That was…” Sam trailed off, clearing his throat and wiping his bloodied hands with a red rag. He looked almost disappointed. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed awkwardly. 

 

“There's a vamp nest south of here,” Sam suggested with a frown. “Maybe we could stop there on our way home.” 

 

“Sure,” Dean murmured, eyeing the head in disgust. He shifted away. “Let's head out.” 

 

“Okay,” Sam said, and he moved around to gather their things. 

 

Dean grabbed a sheet off the bed and started wrapping up the limbs and bodies. It wasn't his favorite part, but they had to clear the scene. He made a pile and started the fire as Sam got Baby ready. There were no words to be said, and Dean marveled at how effortless it all was. Killing was ingrained in them, the process of chopping monsters down and ridding the world of them, just a natural routine that required no direction. 

 

It used to be so much more satisfying. 

 

It didn't help that his bones ached from the fight, and his joints creaked as he dodged oncoming attacks. He also ran out of breath more often, the exertion of his job weighing on his energy. Shit, he was getting old. 

 

Once the fire was mostly ash, Dean drove them towards their destination. He kept an eye out for a motel, and once he found one, he pulled in. Sam got the room while Dean grabbed their duffles, and they met halfway. 

 

“We should reach the nest tomorrow before the sun goes down,” Sam told him as they entered their room. 

 

“Right,” Dean muttered, his nose wrinkling at the musty smell. 

 

“I need a shower,” Sam groaned, grabbing his duffle from Dean and rifling through his clothes. “Then, I'll FaceTime Eileen.” 

 

“She ask you to call?” Dean asked, looking over at Sam in curiosity. 

 

“Yeah,” Sam answered. 

 

“Weird,” Dean murmured, his eyebrows crumbling together. “Cas did too. I mean, I always have, but this time he specifically asked me to. That's strange, right?” 

 

“Love,” Sam sighed, grabbing his clothes and raising his eyebrows as he started towards the bathroom. “It makes people crazy.” 

 

“Huh,” Dean agreed, pursing his lips. 

 

“Just give him peace of mind,” Sam said easily, shaking his head and smiling. “Call him.” 

 

The door to the bathroom shut, and Dean eyed his phone in consideration. Rolling his eyes, Dean walked over and scooped it up. It felt strange, having people wanting him to check in after a hunt, or Cas specifically. He did it anyway, pressing the phone to his ear as it rang for a few moments. 

 

“Dean,” Cas answered, his voice light. 

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, sinking down to sit on the bed, grimacing when the springs creaked and pressed against his ass. That was gonna be a bitch to sleep on. “Just calling to check in like you asked. I'm alive.” 

 

“Very funny,” Cas muttered dryly. “How did the hunt go? Do you and Sam feel better?” 

 

“It was… I don't know. I think me and Sam expected something more. We decided to hit up a vamp nest on the way back,” Dean admitted, setting back against the headboard. 

 

“It didn't satisfy your itch?” Cas asked, and Dean could picture the crinkle forming between his eyebrow. 

 

“Guess it wasn't enough? Maybe it was too easy? I dunno.” 

 

“Hmm, are you sure that's what it is?” 

 

“I mean…” Dean trailed off, mind turning over the possibilities. 

 

“Well, are you at least finding comfort in being out of the bunker?” Cas said, seemingly unbothered by Dean's lack of answers. 

 

“It's fine,” Dean told him flippantly. “How's Jack? He still sad about Alex? Oh, and did Claire cancel those Amazon orders like I told her to? Also, did you find the lasagna I put in the fridge for dinner because-” 

 

“Dean, you've been gone two days,” Cas cut him off, the words sharp and amused. “You needed to get away. This is what you wanted, remember?  _ Enjoy it. _ ” 

 

“Right,” Dean sighed, closing his eyes and letting his head thunk against the headboard.

 

“Listen, I'm supposed to watch a movie with the kids, so I'm gonna let you get some rest. Just try to enjoy your time, okay?” Cas told him gently, his words soft. 

 

“What movie are y'all watching?” Dean asked, reluctant to hang up the phone. 

 

“Brother bear, I believe? Kaia says it's one of her favorites,” Cas said. 

 

“Oh, I love that movie,” Dean chuckled, face lighting up at the thought of everyone piling up to watch that movie. 

 

“Kaia assures me that I will enjoy it,” Cas hummed, the phone crackling as he moved around. “Jack's very excited.” 

 

“I bet he is,” Dean sighed, his lips curling up. 

 

“The movie is about to start,” Cas murmured quietly, no doubt walking into the room where the movie was. “Call me tomorrow?” 

 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed, the smile slipping as he looked down at his lap. “I'll see you in a couple of days, Cas.” 

 

“Goodbye, Dean,” Cas whispered, and before Dean could respond he heard Claire and Jack yelling ‘ _ bye, Dean, be safe _ ’ through the receiver. “Did you hear them?”

 

“I did,” Dean laughed, his smile returning full force. “Bye, Cas.” 

 

The phone clicked, and Dean pulled it from his ear. His smile slowly started falling again, and his eyebrows drew together as something started forming in his mind. Abruptly, it hit him what it was. Dean realized that he'd rather be home, rather be with Cas and the kids, watching some Disney movie.

 

The bathroom door jerked open and Sam padded out, his hair wet and dripping. He made a beeline for his phone, not even sparing a glance at Dean. The phone hovered in front of his face, and Dean knew the moment Eileen appeared on the screen because Sam smiled. 

 

“Hey,” Sam sighed, sitting down on the bed - he frowned at it too - and settling in to talk. 

 

Dean gave him his privacy, and went to grab his own shower. He went through the motions, but his thoughts were distracted. If he wanted to be away from the bunker, why did he miss it so much when he left? Why did he ache to go on hunts if they weren't going to bring him any relief or satisfaction? It didn't make any sense. 

 

As Dean washed his hair, he considered that he truly did see it as a job. Maybe he felt lazy and useless when he wasn't doing it. Maybe that would never change. Though, that didn't mean he couldn't alter that a bit. Rinsing his hair, Dean decided to talk to Sam in the morning to consider new paths. 

 

It was time for a promotion. 

 

* * *

 

The talk came on the ride towards the vamp nest. They had at least an hour to talk about it, and Dean knew there wasn't a better time. Swallowing thickly, he sucked it up and broached the subject. 

 

“I miss being home,” Dean announced into the silence. Sam's head jerked around. 

 

“I- You do?” Sam blurted, surprised. “Me too.” 

 

“Listen, I was thinking…” Dean trailed off and took a deep breath. “What if we kinda did something like Bobby? Me and Cas talked about it, and I think it's a good idea.” 

 

“You don't want to hunt anymore?” Sam asked slowly, eyebrows raised doubtfully. 

 

“Maybe take a few cases every now and again, but not every week. Cas threw around a couple of ideas, and I liked them,” Dean said, glancing at Sam quickly. 

 

“Me and Eileen will probably hunt together some, though,” Sam admitted with a frown. 

 

“Okay,” Dean murmured, nodding. “If that's what you want, then cool. Hell, maybe I could join y'all when I get the urge. I'm just thinking that maybe I could help the hunter community out some. I know Garth handles all the communication, but I was thinking something a little different than that.” 

 

“Like what?” 

 

“I'm really good with cars, man. Hunters travel a lot, and it takes a toll on a lot of their vehicles. I could fix ‘em up, and send the hunters out on their way. I could also take a few hunts when I need to, and if Garth needs help with some lore or something, I could check the bunker’s library.” 

 

“You've been thinking about this a lot, haven't you?” Sam murmured softly. 

 

“Yeah, man,” Dean blew out an explosive sigh, shifting awkwardly. “It's a job now more than anything. I'm tired of fighting apocalyptic-level shit. I just wanna... _ be.  _ Just wanna hunt when I get a wild hair up my ass, and wanna be with my family otherwise. But I know I can't give it up fully because I love it.” 

 

“Dean, after all we've done, I think we deserve to do whatever we want. If you wanna be more like Bobby and fix up cars, why not? That actually would really help out a lot of hunters,” Sam told him seriously. 

 

“The bunker has a nice garage, and those cars all come with titles,” Dean mumbled, clenching the steering wheel. “We never use ‘em, and they're gathering dust. I was thinking of selling ‘em and putting a couple of lifts in. Get some tools. Spread the word. Do everything at a low fee - really low because hunting doesn't exactly pay - and put the rest of the money up for Jack to go to college if he wants. Do hunts in my downtime.” 

 

“ _ Or, _ ” Sam suggested, sitting up suddenly, nearly vibrating with excitement, “you could do that  _ and  _ fix regular people's cars. Then, you could make even more money, and Dean, you'd be set, man!” 

 

“What, are you serious?” Dean snorted, shooting Sam an incredulous look. “I'm not good enough to fix regular people's cars. Plus, I'd have to do school and get some certificates. Hunters don't care about that shit.”

 

“Yeah, but you  _ could,  _ Dean. Don't you get it? Slowing down on hunting leaves room for a whole lot more,” Sam insisted. 

 

“I know,” Dean sighed wearily. “Just never had the chance. Never really wanted to before.” 

 

“Well...you fell in love and gained like three kids,” Sam teased lightly. “I was shocked too. Here I am, a single, childless man, then comes along Jack and Eileen.” 

 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, shaking his head in amusement, “I never expected my life to end up like this, truth be told.” 

 

“What?” Sam asked. “Happy?” 

 

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean whispered, his throat going tight. “ _ Happy. _ ” 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidenote: I put a line in here from one of my tags on Tumblr. My tag is: #two idiots in love. And I really enjoyed slipping that in.

Cas’ back hit the wall with a thud, sending the picture of Freddie Mercury crashing to the floor. Dean ignored it, pressing his hands down Cas’ sides and moaning into his mouth. Panting, Cas hitched his leg between Dean's and started rocking, the friction eliciting whimpers from Dean's lips. 

 

Dean reached down and pressed his hands against Cas’ pants, palming at the bulge there. He used his free hand to crawl up into Cas’ ridiculously hot hair, and tugged his head to the side for better angles. 

 

Cas rocked faster. 

 

“Fuck,” Dean gasped, breaking their kiss to stare into Cas’ eyes, “I missed you.” 

 

“Oh,” Cas moaned, his head tipping back to reveal his throat as it bobbed, “I missed you too. So much, Dean.” 

 

Dean leaned forward and started sucking little bruises into Cas’ skin, trailing down his neck. Cas wheezed slightly, and his leg stuttered as his muscles locked up. Dean watched as Cas came in his pants with just the uncomfortable friction of Dean's hand. 

 

It was immaculate. Cas’ mouth peeled open, chest heaving, and his hips jerked while his fingers dug into Dean's arms, his eyes screwed shut as he rode it out. Dean ground down against Cas’ leg a couple of more times, just staring in awe at the bliss on Cas’ face, and he found his own release seconds after. 

 

Panting, they leaned against each other as they slowly came down from their orgasm high. Dean finally felt the satisfaction he'd been searching for fill him up, pure contentment nearly bursting at the seams. 

 

“You were only gone five days,” Cas mused, glancing down at Dean with a pleased expression, his blue eyes bright. 

 

“Hmm,” Dean agreed, pulling away slowly and wrinkling his nose at his sticky pants. “Well, I missed you anyway. Come on, let's take a shower and get cleaned up.” 

 

Cas obliged him, joining him in the showers. They got naked and pulled the curtain, taking turns washing each other's backs. It was incredibly domestic, and not sexual like Dean might've imagined it. It was nice though, and they talked casually as they moved around each other to get clean. 

 

“Jack is going to talk to you about going to spend a week at Jody’s soon. She's doing some work on the house, and he wants to help her out,” Cas told him. 

 

“Or, he wants to see Alex again,” Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. “Technically, he's only like a year old. Should we be condoning this? It feels... _ wrong _ somehow.” 

 

“He doesn't fully realize that it's a crush. Besides, Alex has assured me that he doesn't think like that,” Cas explained. “Mostly, he just knows she's pretty and he likes her. That doesn't pertain to sex, though he is growing mentally in leaps and bounds. We will have to prepare for that in the future.” 

 

“Hmm, how soon do you think?” Dean asked, curling forward as Cas washed his shoulders with his favorite loofah.

 

“Give it a couple of years,” Cas suggested. 

 

“That soon?” Dean blurted, frowning. 

 

“He will continue to grow rapidly in his understanding. Think of it like dog years, perhaps. His body is nineteen, yes? He understands a great deal emotionally, but there are certain things he hasn't reached maturity to even begin to explore. Soon enough, he will,” Cas murmured. 

 

“Poor kid,” Dean sighed. “Maturity will hit him at rush, won't it? I can't imagine dealing with all that at once. All those emotions, those feelings… it sucks.” 

 

“What's it like?” Cas asked curiously as he turned around for Dean to wash his back. 

 

“A lot of masturbating, for one. Having really confused thoughts, for another. He'll probably be really angsty and rebellious, knowing his parents,” Dean said, eyeing the smooth muscles in Cas’ back. 

 

“You think Lucifer will contribute to his personality still?” Cas snapped, his head jerking around in annoyance. 

 

“Er...no. I was actually talking about us,” Dean admitted, his cheeks heating up as embarrassment flooded through him. 

 

“Oh,” Cas coughed, blinking rapidly as his face softened. “In that case, you are probably correct in that assumption.” 

 

“Yeah, and he's gonna get being snarky from you,” Dean chuckled, rolling his eyes. 

 

“I apologize,” Cas mumbled, turning around to press his wet body into Dean's arms. “I care for Jack as my own. It bothered me that you would connect him to Lucifer.” 

 

“It's cool,” Dean chuckled, nudging Cas’ hair with his nose. “Don't worry, I'll never treat Jack like that again. He's a good kid.” 

 

“I'm getting cold,” Cas grumbled, shivering as the air started to hit them from standing out of the way of the hot water. 

 

Dean frowned, confusion hitting him suddenly, and he pulled away to look down at Cas. His body trembled slightly, and Dean felt unease push into him. Cas looked annoyed at the temperature change, but there was no alarm in his face. Pushing his uncertainty aside, Dean led them out to their towels and clothes. 

 

“Didn't know you could get cold,” Dean mused as he dried himself off. 

 

Cas didn't reply, and Dean was ultimately distracted by the way he started to tug on his shirt. Actually, it was  _ Dean's _ shirt, and that was undeniably attractive. He even slid on Dean's jeans, apparently deciding it was time for a wardrobe change. 

 

“I hope you don't mind,” Cas murmured, blinking wide blue eyes at him. 

 

“No,” Dean choked out. “Nope, that's- It's not an issue. Looks good. You look…” 

 

“Good?” Cas provided with a teasing smirk, looking delighted by Dean's fumbling. 

 

“Yes,” Dean answered automatically, blinking in surprise. “You look really fucking good, Cas. Like...really good.” 

 

“You seem surprised.” 

 

“Not really. I just forget that I'm allowed to be attracted to you now. It still fucks me up sometimes because I'll remember that I can.” 

 

“It's alright,” Cas said pleasantly, smiling widely at him. “I sometimes forget that I'm allowed to openly love you now. You'll grab my hand, or kiss me, and I'll be mystified for a moment. I understand what you mean.” 

 

“We're a couple of dumbasses, aren't we?” 

 

“Undoubtedly.” 

 

“Two idiots in love,” Dean whispered, drawing close to Cas and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips while intertwining their hands. 

 

“ _ Undoubtedly. _ ” 

 

* * *

 

Dean realized something was up about three days after the incident in the shower. He'd always been incredibly aware of Cas, but he found himself watching Cas more closely after his concern over him being cold. 

 

Claire had requested burgers, and Dean was more than happy to comply. He was more than pleased when everyone groaned happily around their first bites. He smiled widely at Cas, shamelessly proud, and then he noticed Cas eyeing Claire's burger in envy. 

 

“You want some?” Dean offered, not actually thinking Cas would take it. 

 

Almost eagerly, Cas took Dean's burger and took a bite, eyes sinking closed in open pleasure. Everyone stared at him in surprise, watching him eat something that was supposed to taste like molecules with clear enjoyment. Dean wanted to be proud of Cas’ reaction, but he was only worried. 

 

“Is it good?” Sam asked, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. 

 

“Mhm,” Cas hummed around his bite, chewing appreciatively and nodding. 

 

“You hungry, Cas?” Dean asked slowly, folding his hands together and staring. 

 

Cas swallowed, his eyes opening slowly. Dean waited, eyebrows raised, and Cas slowly sat the burger back on Dean's plate. Everyone waited in equal amounts of curiosity, if not a bit of suspicion. 

 

“No,” Cas said, clearing his throat and sitting back in his seat. “I've always been fond of burgers, Dean. Those did not taste of molecules. You're a great cook.” 

 

“Oh,” Dean murmured, oddly pleased with that, and blinked. “Well, I'll make you one too next time I make them.” 

 

“Please,” Cas said, and he gave a small smile. 

 

Everyone else returned to their food, and that should've been it. However, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about the whole encounter, but the day continued on as it normally would. 

 

Later that night, Dean and Cas laid together, naked and sated, their words slowly tapering off as sleep dragged Dean under. It was only eight hours later when he woke up that he realized that something was really wrong. He'd fallen asleep to the sound of Cas’ light snores, and Dean woke up to them too. 

 

Cas was splayed out on the bed, face relaxed and eyes closed. His chest was rising and falling as he breathed deeply, most definitely asleep. Dean admired the view for only a few moments before he was truly alarmed. 

 

“Cas,” Dean hissed, reaching out and jerking Cas awake. “Cas, wake up!” 

 

“ _ What, _ ” Cas growled, his voice rough from sleep and his eyes barely cracking open. 

 

Admittedly, the sight was adorable, and Dean would've found it hilarious that Cas was grumpy when he first woke up under different circumstances. As it was, he only felt worry, and he hopped up, pacing along the end of the bed in quick, agitated strides. 

 

“You were asleep, man,” Dean breathed, his fists clenching and unclenching. “Cas, you never sleep. You don't  _ need  _ sleep. What the fuck is going on with you?” 

 

At that, Cas blinked his eyes open wider, peering around in slight confusion. It seemed to hit him after a few moments, and he sat up in the bed. Dean watched as Cas pushed his fingers through his hair, looking exhausted. 

 

In fact, he looked... _ different.  _

 

Dean took a moment to look at Cas, to really see him. He looked different in Dean's clothes as it was, but it was more than that. Cas had gotten thinner, his frame slighter than normal, and his cheeks were pink from sleep. He looked as ruffled as anyone would who'd gotten woken up abruptly. 

 

But that was the  _ thing.  _ Cas, for one, didn't fucking sleep. Usually, Cas looked at peak health, his color never changing - besides a blush - and his body never sweating. He maintained the perfect weight, no more and no less. Yet, there he was, flushed and thinner than usual. How hadn't Dean noticed? 

 

“I'm fine, Dean,” Cas croaked, clearing his throat and standing up. Without another word, he brushed past Dean and left the room, his steps drifting off towards the kitchen. 

 

Cas was most certainly  _ not  _ fine. Dean jerked around and followed, his steps quick and sure. Cas was in the kitchen, helping himself to coffee like he drank it every day. Sam, Claire, and Kaia watched him in equal amounts of shock, their eyes swinging to Dean once he entered the kitchen. 

 

“What the fuck,” Dean breathed, watching as Cas added sugar to their spare mug. He'd always had a mug - before Dean broke it - but he never once used it. 

 

“Dean,” Cas ground out, throwing him a look of annoyance, “there is no need for dramatics.”

 

“Like hell,” Dean blurted out, crossing his arms and frowning. “Tell me what the fuck is going on or so help me, Cas…” 

 

“I'm drinking coffee,” Cas said, narrowing his eyes at Dean over the rim of the mug as he took a pointed sip. “What's wrong with that?” 

 

“Don't lie to me!” Dean shouted, slamming his hand down on the counter and making everyone jump, except for Cas. 

 

“Dean…” Sam said cautiously, his face a simple warning as his eyes darted towards Claire and Kaia. 

 

Dean couldn't help it. Something was  _ wrong,  _ and Cas was being an ass on purpose. Claire and Kaia both wore matching looks of discomfort, and Dean forced himself to keep it together. He took a deep breath, reaching up to shove a hand through his hair. 

 

“Look, just tell me what's going on,” Dean said, attempting to cool down. “I'm just worried.” 

 

At that, Cas’ face softened. He looked down into his coffee with an uncomfortable expression. Dean tried not to tear himself up with dread, but it was hard when Cas looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else. 

 

“I'm slowly becoming... _ human, _ ” Cas whispered, his voice small. 

 

It didn't matter because they all heard it loud and clear. Sam frowned in confusion, and Dean blinked. There was a little noise behind him, a foot scraping against the floor, and Dean knew it was Jack. He wanted to reassure him, but he couldn't turn away. 

 

“Is it… Why? Are you- Cas, are you sick?” Dean croaked out, his chest ready to cave in if that was the case. 

 

“No,” Cas said quickly, putting his coffee aside and straightening. He looked Dean right in the eyes, clearly steadying himself for his next words. “My involvement with you has led me to gain a soul over time. My grace is being forced away as the soul grows. It's the equivalent to what Anna did by ripping her grace out, but much more gradually and very unconsciously.” 

 

Somehow, that was much,  _ much  _ worse. 

 

Dean felt as if he'd been slapped in the face. Cas was becoming a human, losing his grace, because of  _ Dean.  _ The realization forced all the air from his lungs, making his chest hurt. He  _ knew  _ it, knew that things were too good to be true, knew that he was like a fucking disease meant to infect those he dared to love.

 

Everything started to make sense. Cas getting cold, his desire for food, and his need to sleep. He already looked different, shifting on the scale more towards human than angel. The whole time, Cas knew it and he hadn't said a damn thing. No, he'd  _ lied.  _

 

“You lied to me,” Dean said softly, disbelief pressing into him from all sides and quickly morphing into betrayal. “Why would you-  _ How  _ could you lie to me?” 

 

“I admit that I am being selfish,” Cas whispered, averting his eyes in obvious shame. “I simply did not want to give up what I have with you.” 

 

“Let me get this straight,” Dean muttered, holding out a hand and gazing at Cas in blatant hurt. “You're gonna just, what, give up your grace - become human - so you can keep tapping this? Are you fucking serious?” 

 

Despite Dean's crude words, the atmosphere never changed. The room was full of tension between Cas and Dean, their eyes never straying from each other. Cas pressed his lips into a thin line, looking faintly annoyed. 

 

“I understand that my usefulness will diminish considerably if-” 

 

“You think I give a fuck about that!?” 

 

“Well, what  _ else? _ ” Cas snapped, his eyes lighting up in anger. It was attractive, but Dean couldn't even enjoy that. 

 

“Jesus,” Dean breathed, his hand coming up to swipe over his mouth. “Cas, you're not something we  _ use.  _ You're our family. Why can't you understand that?” 

 

“Then why are you so angry?” Cas asked, eyebrows crumbling together as he tilted his head in confusion. 

 

“Because you lied to me. Because you're letting yourself do this without talking to me about it first. Relationships don't work like that, Cas. Don't you think I'd want to know what I'm forcing on you?” Dean explained, waving a hand between them. “This isn't right, man. I'm not... I'm  _ bad  _ for you. I'm literally taking away your grace by being with you. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” 

 

“Dean,” Cas mumbled, jerking from the counter and pacing closer, “this is not your fault at all. It's my choice.” 

 

“If we weren't together, would you still be an angel?” Dean asked flatly. 

 

Cas froze where he stood, his eyes going wide. Dean wished the answer would be anything else besides yes, but he knew it wouldn't be. Cas looked petrified, his throat bobbing around his fear. 

 

“My soul would fade if we didn't- if we weren't… but that doesn't matter,” Cas answered, his words a rush as he took a few more steps closer. 

 

“It does matter,” Dean said, swallowing thickly as a lump formed in his throat. “This isn't right, Cas, and you know it. You hated being a human. You wouldn't have torn your grace out if we weren't together. The thought wouldn't have even crossed your mind, and you know that. I'm not doing this to you.” 

 

Dean waved a hand, trying to slice through the pain reverberating between them. It was heady, clouding Dean's eyes and making them wet. Fuck, he was gonna cry. 

 

“Dean,” Cas whispered, his own eyes swimming as he reached out and grabbed Dean's hand, trying to hold him there. 

 

“ _ Stop, _ ” Dean said sharply, the word cold and solid. Dean snatched his hand back, and he looked at Cas seriously. “We're done.” 

 

Cas jerked back, looking as if he'd been slapped in the face, and blinked. A few tears perched on his eyelids fell freely, another sign of what Dean was forcing on him. No one said anything for a moment, the exchange settling heavy around everyone. 

 

Dean couldn't breathe, the expression on Cas’ face causing his heart to plummet. Turning away and walking steadily from the room - passing a despaired Jack - was the most painful thing he'd had to endure in a long while. He was strong as he went to his room, keeping his shit locked up tight. 

 

However, once in the privacy of his room, Dean broke down, hating the inevitable curse that had him tainting anything he ever loved. 

 

Why, why, why did he ever allow himself to fall in love with Cas? He should've known it would've ended in disaster. That was his life, a disaster from the beginning and a disaster at the end. This was just another thing he had to watch fall apart. 

 

He should've fucking known. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know... Things were just so good, and now this shit?


	28. Chapter 28

Dean woke to a quiet tap on his door, and he seriously considered ignoring it. The tap was insistent though, and Dean heaved himself out of bed. Dragging his feet and feeling like  complete shit, Dean opened the door with a weary expression.

 

“Hey,” Sam said softly, peering at him in pity. “Figured you might want some company.”

 

“I'm not against it,” Dean croaked out, blinking down at his feet as he shuffled back to the bed, leaving the door open.

 

“You know,” Sam murmured conversationally as he shut the door with a soft click, “I don't think I’ve ever seen you heartbroken before. Not like this, anyway.”

 

“You wouldn't have,” Dean mumbled, plopping down on his bed and wrapping himself in the thick comforter. “I only get like this when you die.”

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Sam offered, moving to sit beside Dean with his back against the wall and his legs splayed out in front of him.

 

“No.”

 

“Probably should anyway.”

 

Dean sighed, his breath coming out in a rattle. Fucking emotions again. “What's there to talk about, Sam? I'm an idiot.”

 

“Glad we agree on that,” Sam snorted, shifting to knock his knee into Dean's hip. “That means you should get up and go apologize.”

 

“No, that's- _What?_ ” Dean blurted sharply, his head jerking to peer at his apparently moronic little brother. “You think I'm wrong?”

 

“I think there is a very big blue-eyed angel-human hybrid who is in his room, crying his heart out because he loves you,” Sam told him, shrugging slightly. “Don't think it matters who is wrong or right in this situation. You both are. Right now though, you two are very sad and it's really gross, so go fix it.”

 

“He lied to me,” Dean huffed, shoving the covers up to his chin and glaring at the ceiling, though Sam's words made his heart squeeze.

 

“Yeah, people do that sometimes,” Sam agreed, reaching over to brush a stubborn lock of hair from Dean's forehead. “Dude, you have got to take Cas off the pedestal you put him on. Just because he is - or was - an angel doesn't mean he was angelic.”

 

“I don't think he's perfect - I mean I do in that stupid lovesick way - but I had hoped he'd at least fucking talk to me,” Dean admitted, averting his eyes to the cover on him.

 

“Look, relationships are...rocky sometimes, especially when they're new. Eileen and I had a fight last week, and we're fine. Just go talk to him, Dean,” Sam insisted.

 

“I can't.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I'll just agree to keep on going like he wants to,” Dean burst out, throwing his hands up under the cover and watching the comforter sink back down. His anger slowly deflated along with it.

 

“Okay, and that's a bad thing...why?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

 

“Fuck, Sammy, I'm fucking cancerous, man. I can't- There's no way that's fair. He deserves better than that,” Dean croaked, his already sore eyelids growing near painful as fresh tears welled up in his eyes.

 

“Dean,” Sam hissed sternly, his eyebrows pinching together, “don’t be ridiculous, man. You two are happier than I’ve ever seen, and it would be tragic for that to end because you don't know how to let Cas make his own choices.”

 

“He’s just like me,” Dean whispered, peering up at Sam helplessly. “He’s gonna make a choice based on what he thinks is best for everyone else, not himself.”

 

“He just doesn't want to hurt you, or be hurt,” Sam sighed sadly, his mouth twisting as Dean let out a sniffle, curling in on himself and getting close enough to wipe his snotty nose on Sam’s pants.

 

“Too late for that,” Dean mumbled, pressing his face into Sam’s leg and hoping he could hide there until the tears stopped.

 

Sam’s ridiculously large hand came up to brush through his hair in comfort. It had been a long time since they had gotten so close, since they had drawn comfort from each other.

 

The last time must’ve been during John’s last drunken rage, and Dean remembered rubbing soothing circles on Sam’s back as his little brother cried about the marks on Dean’s face and arms. His heart had been broken for what their father had done, and Dean was right there to provide comfort, despite the fact that it was his face that was fucked up.

 

“You know, when you are better, I'm gonna make fun of you for this,” Sam told him softly, attempting to tease but failing by a lot.

 

“I love him,” Dean whispered, his face pinching together as his chest grew tight and everything he'd been trying to ignore broke loose. “But I don't want to hurt him.”

 

“I know, Dean,” Sam replied quietly, his words pitying and his hand continuing to practically pet Dean’s head. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

Dean continued to mope for a couple of days, and stayed mostly to his room. He bribed Kaia to bring him food by promising to teach her how to shoot better. Claire visited him once in his three day hibernation, and she simply shook her head at him like he was the biggest idiot alive. Jack, for his part, came to Dean with regular updates on Cas’ state, complaining that his ‘dads’ were being ridiculous.

 

As it was, Dean hated all of them and himself by day four.

 

When he could no longer get comfortable lying on his back, Dean forced himself up and out of the bed. He decided that he had to be productive, and grabbed a much needed shower. Once clean and feeling slightly better, Dean went out to the garage.

 

Most of the cars there were covered with at least three layers of dust, and he was positive they hadn't been cranked up in decades. Despite knowing that he could sell them as is, Dean couldn't help but want to fix them up. Besides, it would at least keep his hands busy until the gaping hole in his chest was less painful.

 

Dean sighed and grabbed a bucket, heading to the kitchen. He started making a mental list, thinking of the sponge and car-safe soap he'd have to use. He'd probably give Baby a bath as well.

 

Dean's mind came to a jerking halt as he froze in the doorway. Cas was sitting in the kitchen chair, his torso covered in a purple sweater so big that the cloth fell to the side and showed off his collarbones while the arms draped over his fingers. His blue jeans were ridiculously tight around his thighs, but they flared out past his knees. His hair was a mess, haphazard and flopping all over the place.

 

Dean hadn't ever seen something so beautiful.

 

Cas’ wide, clear blue eyes swung over to pause on him. They were sad and big, ripping at Dean's heart strings. Dean ached to press into Cas’ space, to let his lips trail ‘ _I'm sorry_ ’ into his skin, blanketing him with kisses and touches as apologies.

 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greeted softly, tucking the folds of the too-big sweater in his hands and shifting in his seat. He looked so human.

 

“How long before you get your grace back?”

 

“A few weeks, maybe.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Dean said, his throat clicking as he swallowed. “I wish I could...help.”

 

“You can,” Cas replied, looking up at him.

 

“How?” Dean asked in confusion, pretty sure he couldn't help the situation at all.

 

“Kiss me,” Cas breathed, his eyes oh so expressive, a plea in them.

 

Dean's fingers twitched at the demand, his first instinct to follow through. He fought it, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Kissing Cas would not help, no matter how much he wished it would.

 

“We can't,” Dean murmured, shaking his head sadly. “I'm not doing that to you, Cas. It's not right, and you already know that.”

 

“I miss you,” Cas mumbled, dipping his head and pressing his lips into the fabric of his sweater. “I just… I don't understand why you're doing this. If you want me, and I want you, why can't we have each other?”

 

“Were you planning on removing your grace before you had to make a choice between it and me?” Dean asked softly, cocking his hip and leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms.

 

“Does it matter?” Cas whispered, looking up at Dean with a hopeless expression, wide eyes swimming. “I have always chose you, and that will never change.”

 

“Well, this time I’m choosing you,” Dean sighed, closing his eyes briefly before turning his head away. “I just want you to be happy, and you’re gonna miss being an angel. You’re gonna regret making that decision, I promise, and I can't live with that.”

 

“I can,” Cas insisted, unfolding from the chair and sweeping close to Dean, making Dean tense up and pull back slightly. “This isn't your choice to make, Dean. I will never regret choosing you, and you’re what makes me happy.”

 

Cas peered up at him - looking small due to the sweater swallowing him - and he swayed closer, his hands reaching out to touch. Dean almost allowed it as all the air in the room became thin, and he struggled to breathe as he felt Cas’ breath against his lips. Cas’ blue eyes slipped closed, and Dean jerked back, choking on a whine as he did.

 

“Cas, I- _we_ can't,” Dean groaned, already hating himself for letting Cas get too close.

 

“So, what are we supposed to do?” Cas snapped, crossing his arms and arching both eyebrows seriously, suddenly all sass and annoyance. “What do you suggest, Dean? We go on as if we are not attracted to each other? We pretend like everything we went through never happened? We just - what - go back to being friends?”

 

“Uh… Yeah, I mean… The friend thing sounds like a good idea,” Dean stuttered out, fumbling at Cas’ haughty words.

 

“We were never _just_ friends,” Cas said pointedly. “Even you agreed to that.”

 

“Look, just get better, alright? Stop trying to throw your life away for me. Fuck, Cas, do you think I enjoy this? Spoiler alert, I actually really hate this, but I care too much to have you throwing something else away - even when you don't want to - just because it's me.”

 

Cas’ throat bobbed, and Dean met his eyes. Something passed between them, a block forming and keeping them on seperate sides. Dean felt all the breath escape him as Cas narrowed his eyes, a challenge sparking in them, and he just knew Cas wasn't going to let it go.

 

Sighing heavily, already exhausted from fighting it, Dean shook his head and gathered the things he needed to clean the cars out in the garage. Cas watched him for a moment, the weight of his eyes trailing over him making Dean hot around the collar.

 

“Do you want help?”

 

“Nope,” Dean said, filling the bucket up with water in the sink.

 

“I won't come alone,” Cas sighed in exasperation. “I’ll bring the girls, Jack, and Sam.”

 

“Fine,” Dean agreed shortly.  

 

Dean tensed when fingers drifted along the width of his shoulders, a barely there touch. Breath puffed against the top knot of his spine, and Dean whirled around, his heart hammering in his chest. Cas hadn't made a sound - the sneaky asshole - and he was standing right behind Dean far too closely. Cas blinked at him innocently, tilting his head just so, driving Dean fucking _nuts._

 

“Are you truly that afraid of being alone with me?” Cas asked softly, a hand shooting out to crawl up his arm, heading towards his neck.

 

Dean knew what would happen next, of course he did, but for the life of him, he couldn't force himself to stop it. Fingers hooked around the back of his neck and tugged, easing him down and making Cas’ face hover closer. Dean’s mind went blank, and despite his efforts, he couldn't think of one single damn reason he should pull away.

 

Cas paused just seconds away, their breath mingling, and he stared at Dean with a soft gaze. Dean was helpless to it, and he didn't move an inch, just stared back. Everything felt too harsh, too tight, and Dean wished something would happen before he exploded. Cas blinked, and his fingers fell away as he pulled back.

 

“That's not fair,” Dean croaked, his lips tugging down as he felt betrayal settle in his chest, and _fuck,_ he knew he was about to cry.

 

“Don't be afraid, Dean,” Cas reassured him quietly, almost looking sad. “I'm in perfect control.”

 

With that, Cas turned and started towards Sam’s room. Dean watched him go, his heart racing as he reached up to scrub a hand over his mouth. Blinking rapidly, he turned back towards the bucket of water, and grabbed it. He made his way to get the soap and a few sponges, the previous encounter tracking his mind like he was prey.

 

He entered the garage, everyone already waiting. Claire and Kaia were close together, their hands intertwined - he took a moment to appreciate how comfortable they felt being open with them - and they wore matching smiles of adoration. Dean refused to admit it ever again, but he felt a hot stripe of jealousy slam into him at the sight of their love, knowing it was stupid, but it was there anyway.

 

Jack and Sam were walking around, looking at the cars in mild interest. Jack appeared to really appreciate one of the cars and an idea formed in Dean’s mind. Immediately, Dean wanted to share the idea with Cas, and he searched him out. His heart automatically jumped when he saw Cas leaned up against Baby, still in the loose fitting sweater and looking like heaven and hell coming together for a handshake.

 

 _‘Fuck, he looks so damn good’_ , Dean thought, his eyes running over the soft purple sweater bunched up around his elbows and the jeans hugging his thighs.

 

Not only that, but the way he leaned up against Baby was too suggestive - at least to Dean - to be coincidence. If that hadn't already tipped him off to what was going on, the daring look in Cas’ eyes did. That fucker was _seducing_ him, and it was fucking working!

 

“We cleaning these cars up, or are you going to stare at Cas all day?” Claire called out, snatching Dean’s attention away.

 

“I wasn't… Let’s just get this over with,” Dean snapped, irritated by the amusement on all their faces, including Cas’.

 

“Can I clean this one?” Jack asked excitedly, eyes taking over the blue car in appreciation.

 

“Sure,” Dean answered, a smile settling on his face as he moved closer. “I'll help you.”

 

Dean sat the bucket in the middle of the floor, and passed out the sponges. They broke off in pairs, picking their cars with loud bickering and laughter. Kaia and Cas chose the same black motorcycle, and Claire stuck her tongue out at her girlfriend as she walked with Sam over to the mint green car across from them.

 

“This is a beautiful car,” Jack noted, dipping his sponge and swiping gingerly over the headlights. “I also like the motorcycles, but this is my favorite.”

 

“It’s a very _old_ car,” Dean told him, smirking when Jack unconsciously ran a hand over her curves appreciatively. “I’m glad to see that you appreciate cars, Jack. Lemme ask you something. Do you want to learn to drive?”

 

“I would _love_ to,” Jack blurted, nearly falling over from excitement. “I could get my own car, and then I’d be able to go see Alex!”

 

“What’s the deal with you and Alex?” Dean asked slowly, narrowing his eyes when Jack blushed.

 

“She’s my best friend,” Jack mumbled, shrugging slightly.

 

“What about Claire and Kaia?”

 

“I love them both, but Alex is my _best_ friend.”

 

“I see,” Dean hummed, focusing back on the car.

 

“I actually want to go see her soon,” Jack told Dean, pinning wide eyes on him filled with hope and looking so much like Sam that Dean nearly crumbled under the puppy look automatically. Damn, Sam definitely taught him that.

 

“How’re you gonna get there?” Dean asked.

 

“Well, I agreed to help Jody with the work she’s doing on her house, and she said she would come get me,” Jack pleaded, staring right at Dean. “Can I go...please?”

 

“When?” Dean sighed, rolling his eyes when Jack grinned.

 

“Jody will pick me up this weekend and I’ll come back next weekend,” Jack chirped, washing the car happily.

 

“Have you spoken to Cas about it?” Dean challenged, raising his eyebrows.

 

“He told me to talk to you,” Jack said with a frown, shooting a look over at Cas.

 

“What about Sam?”

 

“He told me the same thing…”

 

Dean wasn't sure how he had gotten roped into decision-making for the kid, but he was honored. He figured it made sense because he was definitely the type to ignore someone else’s decision. Cas and Sam seemed content to be the ones to veto a decision. Though, it could have something to do with Dean being the difficult one, like he was the last checkpoint Jack had to get through before he could continue. The thought concerned him slightly. He didn't want to be the strict parent, especially not when Sam existed.

 

“Fine,” Dean said, staring at Jack seriously. “You can go, _but_ you gotta stay outta trouble. Don't go anywhere without Jody’s permission, and you have to check in with me, Sam, or Cas at least twice every day.”

 

“Of course,” Jack said easily, eyes brightening with excitement. “I will be careful, Dean, I promise.”

 

“There are angels still out there, and they could decide to come for you. I don't know where you’re at with your powers right now, and I don't want you to be in danger,” Dean murmured gruffly, narrowing his eyes at the car he was cleaning.

 

“If it calms you any, Sam and the girls help me with my powers every day. Kaia and I actually figured out that I can help her see better dreams,” Jack said conversationally, his voice overly casual, but Dean could tell he was proud.

 

“That’s awesome, Jack,” Dean told him, offering a grin. “I’m proud of you, kid. You’re using your powers for good, and that's...special.”

 

“Sometimes, I wish I was just human,” Jack sighed, pausing in his washing to stare at his reflection with a frown.

 

“Don't say that,” Dean snapped, his voice louder than he intended, making everyone go silent. He shifted awkwardly, and looked around at everyone staring at him until they slowly resumed what they were doing. “I just mean… Jack, you're who you are meant to be. Don't ever regret that, or wish for something else.”

 

“It would be easier,” Jack admitted, shrugging.

 

“Humanity isn't easy, Jack,” Dean huffed, scrubbing at the car harder. “Besides, just because something seems easier doesn't mean it always is.”

 

“We’re talking about Castiel now, aren't we?” Jack asked curiously, tilting his head.

 

“Shut up and wash the car,” Dean ordered, clearing his throat.

 

“I thought you two were together from the very beginning,” Jack told him quietly, lifting his chin in open pride. “He talked about you like my mother talked of her boyfriend before Lucifer possessed him. With pure love.”

 

Dean couldn't help it; he glanced over at Cas. Kaia looked delighted to be stuck cleaning a motorcycle with him. Cas was telling her something, a small smile curling his lips as he spoke, and Kaia was staring at him in awe. Dean could relate. Sighing, he jerked his gaze back to Jack, miffed by the pleased expression he wore.

 

“Just wash the car,” Dean snapped, focusing back on his task.

 

Jack did as he was told, but his smile was obvious.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Dean finished up the last two motorcycles that no one had gotten to. He was mostly going to be focusing on seeing which car needed the most work and start there. Once all the vehicles were cleaned, Dean drifted to the old car Jack had adored. He wanted to fix it up and give it to Jack once he learned to fully drive.

 

Naturally, it didn't crank.

 

Sighing, Dean started checking the fluids, unsurprised to find that it needed a lot. He grabbed the appropriate fluids, and he went to work. It was easy to get lost in it, just focusing on bringing the shell of the car back to life.

 

Before he knew it, he'd removed the starter to reconnect some wires and a few hours had passed. He was grimy and sweaty, but when the car cranked with a vague wheezing noise, Dean felt satisfaction fill him.

 

“That was quick.”

 

Jolting, Dean knocked his elbow against the steering wheel as Cas came into view with an impressed look on his face. He was carrying a tray with water and a sandwich, his eyes searching Dean out. Dean cut the engine and stepped out the vehicle, wiping his hands on a rag as his eyes swept around the garage, hoping someone else had came in with Cas.

 

“Yeah, I, uh, fed her and greased her up pretty good. She needs a bit of loving, and she'll be able to hit the road again soon.”

 

“That's amazing,” Cas hummed, smiling slightly. “You've been working hard, so I figured you may be hungry.”

 

“You made me a sandwich?” Dean asked, his brow sweeping high.

 

“I was being generous,” Cas said with a challenge, narrowing his eyes.

 

“Thank you,” Dean muttered quickly, reaching out to grab the tray. He sat it on the hood of the car and brought the sandwich to his mouth, taking a big bite eagerly.

 

“Jack says you're going to teach him to drive soon,” Cas mused, leaning against the hood and watching Dean devour the sandwich.

 

“Well,” Dean mumbled, his words muffled around his food, and he paused to swallow down some water, “I will once I get this one running. He likes it, so I'm gonna give it to him. I mean… if you're okay with that.”

 

“Of course,” Cas allowed easily, bobbing his head in approval. “I think that would be wonderful for you both.”

 

“My dad gave me Baby, and I thought it'd be a good tradition to carry on,” Dean admitted quietly, immediately stuffing his face with the last bites of the sandwich to avoid the embarrassment he felt at his admission.

 

“Jack will love it,” Cas murmured, pinning a soft look on Dean. “And I am very proud of you for doing that, Dean.”

 

Dean swallowed the sandwich down quickly, averting his eyes as he finished off his water. Admittedly, he did feel better after eating, and he raked his eyes over the car. It was a distraction, much needed and much appreciated. Dean cleared his throat, and he offered Cas an awkward smile.

 

“Thanks for the sandwich, Cas. If there isn't anything else, I'll get back to work,” Dean mumbled, doing his best not to reach up and ruffle his hair like his hands itched to.

 

“Really, Dean?” Cas snapped, his words sharp as his jaw clenched.

 

“What?” Dean blurted out, eyes going wide.

 

“Are we only aloud to talk about our child now?” Cas growled out, moving forward to back Dean up against the hood of the car, his eyes blazing with fresh anger and frustration. “Is that the relationship we've been shriveled down to? Are you _that_ genuinely afraid of spending time with just me?”

 

“Cas,” Dean laughed nervously, his eyes shifting past the man hovering so closely to him, “it's not like that. I'm not doing-”

 

“You _are,_ ” Cas hissed, pressing closer to fist his hand in Dean's shirt. “You want me, and you know it. Stop shutting me out.”

 

“We can't,” Dean insisted firmly, meeting Cas’ gaze seriously. “I need you to be okay way more than I need me to be.”

 

Cas gritted his teeth, his eyes glowing faintly as he only grew more furious. Dean could see the grace trying to swell in him feebly, and that only solidified his decision. Cas threw his hands up, letting Dean go and backing up. He stalked off, muttering to himself angrily.

 

“Self-sacrificing piece of _shit!_ ”

 

The door to the garage slammed, and Dean stared off in shock. Humanity clearly didn't settle well with Cas. His emotions were definitely more heightened, and Dean felt amusement trickle through him at Cas’ outburst. It's shouldn't have been adorable, but it was.

 

Shaking his head at his earlier moment of weakness, Dean got back to work on the car. There was a faint clicking noise that Dean prayed had nothing to do with the engine. With Cas flickering insistently at the back of his mind, Dean focused back on the beautiful car in front of him.

 

He spent about an hour searching for the clicking noise, eventually finding it. Victory pushed him towards excitement, and Dean settled himself under the hood to twist a few bolts and tighten some wire connections. Even older cars were complex, and Dean enjoyed learning their systems.

 

He was elbow deep in the engine when he was kicked hard in the ass. He was shoved forward by a hard boot, and his head slammed into the hood above him. Groaning, and immediately pissed, Dean whirled around with a sharp curse.

 

“You deserved that,” Claire announced, crossing her arms.

 

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Dean snapped, rubbing the back of his head.

 

“I told you I'd skin you alive if you hurt Cas, so you got off lucky,” Claire reminded him unapologetically, arching an eyebrow.

 

“What are you talking about? Cas is _fine,_ ” Dean spat, suddenly overcome with anger at the man in question. “Why does everyone keep acting like _I'm_ the bad guy here!? He's the one who lied. He's the one who was about to become something he hated because of me. He's the one who hurt me!”

 

Dean bit his tongue hard, turning back to brace his hands on the car and compose himself. He knew it was going to be hard, but there for a moment, he thought he could keep his cool about the situation. It still hurt like a continuous blade in the crevices around his heart, and Dean was doing everything in his power to ignore it. But no one was _letting_ him.

 

“Look, I don't want to know all the details. You're both important to me, and I am _not_ taking sides. However, Cas - little dorky dude who says _hot topical_ \- is in there cussing up a storm, and he's frustrated. He's frustrated, and hurt, and scared. Dean, you two have got to work your shit out or you're both gonna end up bitter and hating each other.”

 

“There is nothing to work out. Every time - every single fucking time - I get something good in my life, it gets snatched from me.”

 

Dean bowed his head, closing his eyes as his body sagged under the weight of his own words. It was true; Dean couldn't have good in his life because he always weeded it out. Soon enough, Cas would be gone from his life too, and Dean didn't know how to handle that.

 

“Dean,” Claire said fiercely, reaching up to snatch him around, “who the fuck are you? I thought you argued with _God._ I thought you fought Lucifer. I thought you defied every rule, every expectation, and every single thing that came for you! Who _are_ you, Dean?”

 

“I'm fucking _worthless,_ ” Dean shouted, throwing his hands out as he gestured towards himself. “I don't- I _can't_ do it anymore, Claire. I watch as the good shit in my life leaves me, and I don't know what to do!”

 

Claire stared at him for a moment, a strange understanding in her gaze. Dean swallowed, perched on the edge of a mental break. His whole body hurt, a constant throb of _‘he's not mine anymore’_ playing a loop in his soul. Leaning forward, Claire pinned a serious expression on him, looking so wise and sure in that moment, and she said,

 

“So...take it _back._ ”


	29. Chapter 29

Cas went with Jack to Jody’s. 

 

He hadn't told Dean he was going to, just smiled at Claire and promised to return in a week. Dean stood out in the driveway as the pulled off, Cas and Jack waving as the van rode away. His heart felt like it weighed a ton, and Dean didn't know how to lighten it. 

 

“He's coming back,” Kaia murmured, looking up at him with a soft gaze. 

 

Dean knew he was ridiculously transparent, and he guessed that was why Claire and Sam made they're quick escapes. Kaia stayed, and Dean figured he ought to give her more credit than he did. Pushing his longing to the side, Dean forced a smile for Kaia. 

 

“In the meantime, I did promise to teach you how to shoot,” Dean said lightly, winking at her when she smiled widely. 

 

“You did!” Kaia agreed, eyes brightening eagerly. “Claire wants to pick up a hunt when we get home, and I want to have better accuracy to help.” 

 

“Alright,” Dean hummed, jerking his head towards the bunker. “Go tell your girlfriend that I'm stealing you away for a few hours. There's a gun range about an hour away, so I'll take you there. I'll be in the garage.” 

 

“Okay,” Kaia said excitedly, skipping off to do as Dean asked. 

 

Laughing slightly, Dean followed her. He searched for Sam, ducking his head into Sam's room. Sam was texting, a small frown on his face. Dean waited until Sam put his phone to the side with a sigh. 

 

“Everything okay?” 

 

“What?” Sam blurted, looking up with wide eyes. “Oh yeah, everything's fine. Eileen is just a little upset with me right now.” 

 

“What'd you do?” Dean asked in surprise. 

 

“We kinda got into an argument over something stupid. There's another hunter she wants to work with, and I dunno…” Sam trailed off, eyebrows drawing together as he frowned. “I trust her and everything, but why does she want to hunt with someone else? Plus, they used to have a  _ thing. _ ” 

 

“Are you jealous, Sam?” Dean teased, his lips quirking up. Sam threw him a bitch face, his nostrils flaring wide. 

 

“Shut up. I do trust her, but  _ him… _ He clearly still likes her,” Sam grumbled, narrowing his eyes. “And why doesn't she want to hunt with me? She's all gung ho to hunt with him, but if I bring it up, she's hesitant.” 

 

“Maybe it means something with you and not him,” Dean suggested, shrugging. “Have you asked her any of this?” 

 

“I didn't get to! She's a firecracker, and I love that about her, but it's not working in my favor right now. As soon as she realized I was a little jealous of him, she got offended that I would ever think she'd do something like that to me,” Sam explained, waving his hands around wildly. 

 

“Maybe don't be jealous,” Dean offered. 

 

“That's rich coming from you,” Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. 

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Dean blurted out, affronted. 

 

Sam raised his hand, and he started ticking off his fingers as he spoke. “You were jealous of Meg, remember? You were jealous of April. Oh, you were even jealous of  _ Mick,  _ and don't even get me started on Ishim. Oh, and you didn't even know Benjamin well, but you were definitely jealous of him!” Sam ticked off his last finger, and he waved his hand proudly. 

 

“Fuck you,” Dean snapped, narrowing his eyes as he remembered  _ Benjamin,  _ remembered how Cas had said that he was sarcastic, yet thoughtful and appreciative. Fucking asshole. “I wasn't-  _ Shut up. _ ” 

 

“And y'all weren't even together then.” 

 

“He's always been my person, Sammy. No other dickbag gets to have him.” 

 

“Yeah, well, don't go spouting off how I shouldn't be jealous,” Sam sniffed, crossing his arms in clear offense. “Eileen is  _ my _ person, and it bugs me that someone else might get her. So yeah, I'm jealous. Sue me.” 

 

“We're possessive fuckers, aren't we?” Dean mused, blinking slowly. “Probably comes from years of never having much. That's why we cling to each other and the people we love because we always got shit taken from us. We might need to work on that.” 

 

“You first,” Sam muttered. 

 

“I have a whole lot more to deal with when it comes to Cas right now,” Dean sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Yeah, how are you dealing, by the way? I figured he didn't tell you he was leaving,” Sam murmured, wincing apologetically. 

 

“I'm just gonna wait for him to come back, I guess. I'll keep busy until he does.” 

 

“What happens when he gets back?” 

 

“Oh,” Dean coughed, blinking. “Nothing happens. He'll just be home.” 

 

“So… you're  _ not _ going to try to fix it? I mean, you're both pretty miserable. Maybe you two should, I dunno, get back together,” Sam told him, bringing both of his hands up and pushing his fingers together to interlink. 

 

“We're managing,” Dean huffed, averting his eyes. “We're friends right now.” 

 

“You're really not.” 

 

“We are.” 

 

“Why didn't he tell you he was leaving, then?” Sam challenged, eyebrows arching. 

 

“He was busy,” Dean defended weakly, looking down as his throat bobbed. It was flimsy, and Dean hated himself. 

 

“Call him,” Sam told him seriously. 

 

“He's doing things, and I'll be doing things. I'm about to take Kaia out, so it'll just be you and Claire for a bit.” 

 

“We'll be fine. Have fun, and  _ call  _ Cas.” 

 

“We will,” Dean said, ignoring Sam's insistence to call Cas and heading towards the door. He paused and turned to Sam with a frown. “Also, you should take your own advice. FaceTime Eileen. Talk to her, man.” 

 

“I’m dreading it,” Sam groaned, eyeing his phone like it might bite him. 

 

“Well, I'm dreading this whole week, so I understand. Still gotta do it,” Dean told him, shrugging slightly. 

 

“He'll come back,” Sam murmured, looking up at Dean sadly. 

 

“Just call her,” Dean said, clearing his throat and leaving Sam to his fate as he walked out to the garage. 

 

Kaia was already waiting, leaning up against the car with her hands shoved in her pockets. She looked up when he walked in, her lips stretching into a smile. Dean eased into the sweet atmosphere that seemed to follow her anywhere. She slid into the car when he did, turning to look at him gratefully. 

 

“Thanks for doing this,” Kaia said. 

 

“Well, I don't want you to take Claire's head off by accident,” Dean joked, cranking the car. 

 

“Honestly,” Kaia said lightly, amusement curling her words, “me neither.” 

 

Dean laughed, shaking his head as they started down the road. Kaia talked with him easily, not anywhere close to the shy girl he'd first met, and Dean appreciated her presence. The week was going to be shitty anyway, but Dean thought it would go by quicker if his mind wasn't on the fact that Cas had left. 

 

_ Again.  _

 

* * *

 

Lips trailed down Dean's throat, leaving little wet patches as they sucked at his skin. A hand pressed into his hip, tugging at his pants. Dean moaned when fingers wrapped around his dick, tugging lightly. He jerked up into the firm hold, groaning as the tugging grew faster. Hair brushed his chin, and Dean blinked rapidly as he looked down. Blue eyes met his, big and gorgeous. 

 

“Cas,” He whispered, the name hitching as Cas pumped his hand quicker. 

 

Cas just stared at him, his eyes seeming to see much further than his face. It felt like Cas was looking right at his soul, gazing right past all his layers and seeing him for what he was. Heat spiked up Dean's spine, and the intensity of the look had him even more aroused. Cas licked his lips, and Dean moaned when he rotated his wrist. The new grip was amazing, and Dean went to grab Cas’ face, searching for more contact. 

 

His fingers didn't connect, and Cas was gone. Gasping at the sudden loss of fingers around his dick, Dean whimpered and tried to sit up. He couldn't move, and he tried to find Cas with just his eyes. No longer aroused, Dean fought against the panic that smothered him. 

 

“You didn't want me, remember?” 

 

Cas’ voice echoed around him, sounding flat and lifeless. Dean flung his head from side to side, trying to get sight of the man he loved. It was too dark to see anything. Shadows swarmed around him, dragging across his skin like ice cold fingers. 

 

“What was the point of coming back? I should've stayed dead.” The voice slithered through the room, harsh and ripping the warmth from Dean's earlier pleasure. He could barely breathe. The air around him was cold and heavy, chilling him to his core.

 

“No, no, please don't say that, Cas.” 

 

Laughter echoed in the air around Dean, making him tremble. “It's okay, Dean. You've made it very clear what you want. Look where we are. It's where I belong, where I'm supposed to be.”

 

“No, that's not true,” Dean cried, blinking around at the darkness in despair. The blanket of emptiness pressed down on Dean, frigid and suffocating, and Dean wanted to escape it. He was frozen to the bed, with only his words as a weapon. “I- I love you, Cas. You belong with us, not in the Empty.” 

 

“It doesn't matter,” Cas hissed, the darkness suddenly receding to leave Cas standing at the end of his bed, blue eyes weeping tears of blood, an angel blade lodged deep in his chest. “You're going to kill me, Dean. You're a disease, and I'm going to end up right back in the Empty. It's going to be all your fault.” 

 

Cas tipped back, his body arching as darkness hurried up to engulf him. Dean screamed, jolting up in his bed with a hoarse shout. The dim room looked untouched, as if Cas hadn't just died in front of him again. Shaking, Dean grabbed his phone off the nightstand. The clock told him that it was 3:44 in the morning, but he couldn't stop himself from dialing Cas’ number.

 

“Cas?” Dean breathed out when the receiver clicked, terrified that Cas wouldn't answer. 

 

“Dean,” Cas murmured, sounding concerned about the call, “are you alright?” 

 

“I… I had a nightmare, Cas,” Dean sobbed, relief pushing him to tears, and he curled into himself. “Fuck, I thought- I thought you were dead. I thought… God, Cas.” 

 

“Hey, shh, it's okay,” Cas murmured softly, his words immediately turning careful. “I'm not dead, I promise. It was just a nightmare.” 

 

“Why'd you leave?” Dean asked quietly, ashamed at the crack in his voice. 

 

“Mostly, I was worried about Jack being out in the open. I still fear the angels will come for him. I thought - an incorrect assumption - I was ready for it, but as it drew closer… I only grew more anxious. I'm sorry I didn't tell you.”

 

“It didn't have anything to do with me?” 

 

“Partially, yes,” Cas admitted. “I'm very angry with you, Dean. It's hard to avoid that.” 

 

“I'm sorry,” Dean moaned, closing his eyes around fresh tears. “I'm sorry that I'm bad for you. I'm sorry that I am making you fall. I'm sorry that I love you. Fuck, I'm so goddamn sorry for all of it, Cas.” 

 

“Why can't it be my choice?” Cas whispered, the faint sound of a door closing drifting through the line. “It's  _ my  _ grace, and it's  _ my  _ life. Why can't  _ I  _ decide?” 

 

“Please don't, Cas. I know you. You'll choose me, like you always do. Just this once, choose yourself,” Dean begged, pressing a hand over his mouth to fight the pleas his heart wanted him to give.  _ ‘Don't be selfish, Dean’ _ . 

 

Cas sighed, utter exhaustion in the puff of breath. “You need rest, Dean.” 

 

“Don't hang up,” Dean blurted out, swallowing thickly. “Please… I know I'm being wishy washy, but I need to hear your voice. Just- Can you talk to me until I fall back asleep?” 

 

There was a beat of silence, and Dean felt his heart throb in his chest. He worried that he'd already asked too much, and he knew he already ruined their fragile neutrality. However, Cas did what he always did; he chose Dean. 

 

“Of course.” 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, last one everyone! Do enjoy. (Also, It would be impossible to say which piece of art is my favorite, but I have to admit that this one means a lot to me!)

By the time Jack and Cas returned, Dean had the car Jack adored up and running. He'd drove it around, and made sure it was safe. As soon as Jack was in the door, Dean was passing over the keys and promising to take him for a test drive. 

 

Cas smiled at him, but it was stilted. Before Dean could figure out what to say, Cas was already leaving the room to go see Claire. Jack had bounded over to Sam, showing off the keys like an overexcited puppy. Sam laughed and eyed Dean with pride. 

 

Dean ought to have felt better than he did. 

 

They all met up in the kitchen, and Dean settled in to eat dinner with his family. Jack babbled over Chicken Alfredo about how nice Jody’s house was coming along, and he got all gooey when he spoke of Alex. Cas didn't eat, and he didn't appear to want to. 

 

In fact, Cas didn't appear to want to do  _ anything.  _ He didn't speak unless spoken to, and he refused to meet Dean's gaze. Everyone seemed to notice the tension, and Sam finally took a stand. 

 

“I'm taking the kids to see a movie,” Sam announced, looking right at Dean. 

 

“You are?” Claire asked, arching an eyebrow. 

 

“Ooh, what movie?” Jack blurted excitedly, tossing his fork down. He shoved to his feet and tugged Kaia up to join him. “It doesn't matter! We're going to have fun.” 

 

“Sure,” Kaia laughed, her lips curling as she shot Claire an amused look. “Sounds like a good night, right?” 

 

“Everyone go wash up your dishes,” Sam said, waving a hand and watching as all the kids scrambled over themselves to wash their dishes first. “Cas, can you please go make sure they don't flood the kitchen?”

 

“Okay,” Cas murmured, nodding slightly as he paced into the kitchen. “Claire,  _ no.  _ Put down the towel. We are not rag-tagging Jack.” 

 

Cas’ voice was drowned out by Jack's very loud yelp and Claire's snort of amusement. Dean smiled, and he turned to his brother. Sam's serious face was waiting, and Dean felt his smile shrivel on his face. 

 

“Please don't say what I think you're about to say,” Dean groaned. 

 

“You are going to have  _ at least _ five hours alone with him,” Sam hissed, narrowing his eyes. “Dammit, Dean, fix it already. I told you I would kick your ass over him, and  _ I will. _ ” 

 

“I've already  _ told  _ you-” 

 

“I don’t care! You have no idea how much I don't care. If he wants to be human, let him. Just let him decide,” Sam snapped, standing up and bracing himself against his arms as he leaned toward Dean. His hair flopped in his face, but he ignored it. “You two are the most ridiculous people I've ever met. Just...be happy. If that means y'all end up together, then great! If that means y'all just stay friends, then fine. But no more of this inbetween. I'm serious, Dean.  _ Fix it. _ ” 

 

Sam didn't give Dean any chance to respond. He jerked up, sniffed, and marched to the kitchen. There were the distinct sounds of Sam wrangling the kids out the door, then... _ silence.  _ Dean swallowed. 

 

After a few moments, Cas emerged from the kitchen, his eyes downcast. Dean stared at him, his eyes drifting hungrily over his form. Cas was back in his usual getup, his trench coat settling a bit too big on his shoulders. It made him look small, but Dean knew firsthand that he was - for a lack of a better word -  _ thick. _

 

Cas looked up, peeking up at him through his lashes before quickly averting his gaze. Dean's mouth was ridiculously dry, and he took a moment to swallow some of his beer. The tension in the room was charged, an underlying desire bouncing back and forth between them. Frustration - sexual and emotional - smothered them. 

 

Dean couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't stop himself from appreciating what he knew he couldn't have. He wanted to get up, shove into Cas’ space, and ignore all the reasons he knew he wasn't allowed. They'd earned it, dammit, and Dean was bereft with the hand he had been dealt. He felt like a soldier who'd gone to war so he could come home, only to be forced to sleep out on the lawn. 

 

Cas looked up, and he cleared his throat when he caught sight of Dean still watching him eagerly. The spell was broken, and Dean finally looked down while fighting a blush. 

 

“I'm going to be in my room,” Cas murmured quietly, clearing his throat again. 

 

Dean opened his mouth, a plea to stay on the tip of his tongue, but Cas was already walking away. He swept out of the room quickly, obviously escaping, and Dean turned his eyes to the tabletop to ignore his retreat. In a weak attempt to get his mind off of his urges, Dean picked up the bottle cap and tapped it lightly against the table. After about thirty agitated taps in quick succession, he realized it wasn't going to work at all. 

 

Dean jerked up from his chair, taking long strides towards Cas’ room. He wasn't exactly thinking about what he was doing, but then again, he wasn't thinking clearly at all. Dean was mostly thinking on his feet, the need to settle things with Cas urging him on. 

 

Dean approached the door, hand poised to knock, and it jerked open before his knuckles even met the wood. Cas stared at him through narrowed eyes, obviously annoyed. Caught off guard, Dean stared dumbly at Cas, his mouth hanging open as he slowly lowered his hand. 

 

“I…” Dean started, blinking rapidly. 

 

“What?” Cas snapped. 

 

“Just… Can I come in?” Dean mumbled, clearing his throat as he fumbled for words. 

 

Cas sighed, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling in open annoyance. “You can join me if you'd like to, Dean. Come on in. I mean, if you're comfortable with being in a small space alone with me, of course.” The door flung open wide, and Cas peered back at Dean pointedly as he walked over to sit on his bed. 

 

Dean dipped his head, trying to rid himself of the embarrassment he felt. He grabbed the door and walked it back, leaning against it to close it with a seemingly loud click. Cas peered at his phone, apparently unbothered by the atmosphere surrounding them. 

 

“How'd you know I was at the door?” 

 

“I could feel you longing for me.” 

 

Cas’ answer was overly casual, and Dean wished for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Embarrassment and shame slammed into him, and he closed his eyes, bowing his head. Taking a deep breath, Dean tried to focus on the positives. 

 

“At least you're an angel again,” Dean said weakly, swallowing thickly when Cas slowly looked up. “That's...good.” 

 

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” Cas hissed, putting his phone aside and glaring at Dean. 

 

“I just mean… Well, I wasn't saying that-” 

 

“Is that all you care about?” 

 

“No,” Dean blurted, pressing the palms of his hands into the cool door behind him.  _ ‘You can still leave, Winchester. Don't be an idiot’.  _

 

“That's all you seem to care about these days, Dean,” Cas announced, standing up suddenly. He slowly walked around the bed, his mouth twisting as he spoke sharply. “In fact, I'm beginning to think that's  _ all  _ you've ever cared about. What was it you said once?  _ ‘A baby in a trench coat’. _ Right.” 

 

“No, Cas, it's not like that, I promise,” Dean whispered, eyes boring into Cas’, begging him to see the truth there. “I care about  _ you,  _ not your angelic powers.” 

 

“You surely seem to,” Cas bit out, drawing closer. “You left me so I could keep them. You chose  _ them  _ over me. You chose them  _ for  _ me, and they're not even yours. And what's so great about them? Do you truly want to know what I have back? I can no longer enjoy food with my family. I can no longer enjoy emotions as strongly. I can no longer be with the man I love. But yes, let me keep them so that I shall heal when someone is hurt and always be aware of how much you long for me!” 

 

By the time Cas had finished his rant, he was using his finger to jab Dean in his chest. He was angry, eyes blazing and nostrils flared. Dean held his breath, never taking his eyes off of Cas. It was the whole predator and prey thing, a sharp reminder to Dean that Cas again had the power to smite him. 

 

Cas’ eyes flickered down to Dean's lips, a longing that Dean didn't need angel powers to see passing over Cas’ face. Closing his eyes, Cas took a deep breath, calming himself. The process like stuffing a hurricane back in a bottle. Dean cleared his throat cautiously. 

 

“Let me make it very clear, Cas…” Dean said softly, meeting his eyes. “I don't care about the powers. I don't care if you never fight again. I promise you,  _ I don't care.  _ But I do care about you, and I care about what you want. You never wanted to be human before.” 

 

“I do now,” Cas told him fiercely. “I knew where I would end up. I never lied to myself about what I chose. It's not just you that I chose, Dean Winchester. It's humanity as well. I am well aware of what will happen to me, and I anticipated it.” 

 

“That's not fair,” Dean argued. “You shouldn't be  _ forced  _ to do that.” 

 

“I took my free will, and I do not regret it. I had already planned for this one day,” Cas huffed, crossing his arms and looking away in blatant pettiness. “I wanted to grow old with my family, and I wanted to be here. I  _ wanted  _ that, but I didn't expect it so soon.” 

 

“Exactly!” Dean burst out, jerking his hands around in victory. “That's what I've been saying, Cas. I knew you weren't ready, and I am  _ not  _ going to force that on you. Besides, you hated being a human.” 

 

“Yes, I did, but that was  _ your  _ fault,” Cas growled, turning an accusing gaze toward Dean. “You were the one who threw me out in the world without any help. You were the one who broke my heart as soon as I recognized my heart would break.  _ You  _ were the reason I hated being human, Dean!” 

 

Guilt clogged Dean's throat, and he looked down at his feet. “Cas, I… I'm  _ sorry. _ ” 

 

“I know why you did it, and I already forgave you. It's in the past, but stop using that as an example of my distaste for being a human. It is not accurate,” Cas said, and he took a deep breath. “I do not despise the idea of being human. In a way, it feels...romantic. I should not be ashamed to make this choice, and yet, you treat me as if I'm making the wrong one. There is no wrong choice; it is simply  _ mine. _ ” 

 

“I just don't want to hurt you,” Dean whispered, lifting his gaze. “I can't… Cas, I can't do this without you. I don't want you to leave. I don't want you to do something you'll regret.” 

 

“I've made my decision,” Cas told him, voice strong as he tipped his chin up. “Whether you stop acting childish and allow us to...reconcile or not, I will be removing my grace.” 

 

“Wait,  _ what? _ ” Dean blurted, eyes going wide. 

 

“You heard me.” 

 

“You're just going to…” 

 

“Yes,” Cas answered seriously, arching an eyebrow. “It's my choice, regardless of what you  _ think  _ I should do.” 

 

“Cas, buddy, I really don't-” 

 

Hands shoved against Dean's chest, knocking the rest of his words away. Cas pressed into his space, pure fury making his eyes glow. Dean sucked in a sharp breath, berating himself for the arousal that automatically hit him. Cas glared at him, his hands bracketing Dean in and allowing no escape. 

 

Dean should've been scared. He wasn't. 

 

“Do not call me that,” Cas growled, his lip curling in disdain. “I am not your _buddy._ I have been inside you. I have given you orgasms that have left you in tears. We are the farthest from _buddies_ then we've ever been.” 

 

Dean didn't whimper,  _ he didn't.  _ Nodding jerkily, Dean cleared his throat, breathing sharply through his nose. Fuck, Cas smelled good. All righteous fury and sparks. Dean wanted to melt into Cas like a lovesick teenager, and he mentally smacked himself. 

 

_ ‘Get it together, Winchester. Now is NOT the time,’ _ Dean thought. 

 

“I- yes… Yeah, I agree. No buddy,” Dean stuttered, blinking rapidly. “Sounds good.” 

 

“And  _ stop  _ longing for me,” Cas snapped, waving a hand like batting away a fly. “It is very distracting.” 

 

“That… I can't do,” Dean sighed, going still when Cas huffed. Hot breath tickled his lips, and Dean's mind slowed down to that one moment of Cas’ mouth being  _ so close.  _

 

“I wish you would stop because feeling you desire me is increasingly unfair, especially considering how much I want you already,” Cas murmured, taking in a slow breath and dropping his hands in obvious regret. 

 

Dean watched as he started to pull away, and he felt his stomach drop. Cas looked at a point of no return, too tired to act and too hopeful to let go. Dean's heart skittered around in his chest, knocking sharply to let him know he had to do something or he was going to lose something. 

 

Faced with thought of losing Cas altogether, Dean reached out and grabbed Cas’ face, tugging him in. Cas leaned into the hold, taking the kiss as soon as Dean offered it. His hands landed back in their original spot near his shoulders, boxing Dean in. Their lips connected, soft and slow, and Dean could've cried. It was like coming home. 

 

Heat trickled down Dean's spine, and he shoved his hands into Cas’ hair, moaning obscenely into his mouth. Cas responded in kind, reaching over with one hand to cradle Dean's cheek with a small whimper. He sucked Dean's bottom lip into the cradle of his teeth, nibbling just so. 

 

“Shit,” Dean cursed, tugging away. His head swam, and he sucked in a sharp breath. 

 

Cas peered at him with bright blue eyes, clearly pleased with the kiss. Dean tried to catch his breath, but Cas was so close, their breath mingling. Dean pushed Cas back slightly, arguing with himself. 

 

“Are you alright?” Cas asked, confusion making him pause. “Did I...do something?” 

 

“Yeah,” Dean croaked, rocking his hips forward to press his arousal against Cas’ leg in a pointed fashion. “That.” 

 

“I can fix that,” Cas offered, his lips quirking up in the corners. “Would you like me to?” 

 

“Yes,” Dean answered automatically, but he caught Cas’ hand when it drifted into lower territory. “Wait… Are you  _ sure? _ ” 

 

“The only thing I'm more sure of is how much I love you,” Cas murmured, eyes never wavering from Dean's. 

 

“ _ Fuck, _ ” Dean whispered, dropping to his knees without preamble. He definitely couldn't beat that, but he could sure as hell try. 

 

Cas stared down at him almost curiously, but his eyes fluttered shut when Dean unbuttoned his pants and pulled his dick out of his underwear. Cas sucked in a sharp breath as Dean leaned forward and took Cas into his mouth. The weight of Cas’ dick on his tongue felt like a challenge, and Dean wasn't one to back down.

 

Dean was eager, desire and relief battling within him at the same time. He'd wanted nothing more than to just be with Cas again, and now that he finally had that, he wanted to make up every moment they'd ignored. 

 

Cas groaned low and deep, his hips jerking forward as Dean swallowed him down. Dean gagged slightly, and Cas jerked back. Their eyes connected sharply, and Dean suddenly remembered Cas telling him that he didn't like the sound of Dean gagging. Dean offered a reassuring smile, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Cas’ bobbing dick. 

 

Cas reached down and lifted Dean up. Cas just straight grabbed his shoulders and tugged him to his feet in one smooth motion. Dean swayed in his spot, surprised at how easily Cas had just picked him up. 

 

Dean gaped at Cas in disbelief, and he realized a tingle was spreading over him.  He was  _ turned on  _ by Cas manhandling him. The sure grip of Cas’ hands, and how smoothly he'd changed Dean's position, was so beyond arousing that his brain had come to a screeching halt. 

 

Dean didn't have time to examine that because Cas barreled right over it, giving Dean a little push towards the bed. Dean stumbled back, eyes going wide as Cas walked him backwards with steady hands. 

 

“I want to be inside you again,” Cas told him simply, his voice rough. 

 

“Okay,” Dean croaked. “Yeah, we can- we can definitely do that again.” 

 

“Get on the bed,” Cas ordered, abandoning him to walk over to grab the lube. Dean blinked rapidly at him. “And get naked.” 

 

Dean shivered when Cas threw him a heated look, his eyebrow sweeping high as his lips pursed. It was... _ temptation _ . How could an angel be so...filthy. Thoroughly worked up, Dean did as he was told, tossing clothes off as he crawled his way to the middle of Cas’ bed. 

 

Cas didn't shed his clothes as he stalked over to the bed. Hooking one leg on the bed, Cas grabbed Dean firmly by his thighs and yanked him down to the edge, his legs hooking around Cas’ hips. Dean let out a long breath, already shaking, and stared up at Cas in anticipation and want. 

 

Cas pushed the front of his pants farther down and crowded close to Dean. That was incredibly hot, and Dean couldn't believe Cas was going to fuck him in the trench coat. He'd be offended if it didn't turn him on so much. In fact,  _ everything  _ was turning him on, and Cas appeared in the same predicament. 

 

Cas spread Dean's legs to the sides, his fingers curling in as he slid his hands down his thighs. Dipping down, Cas pressed a kiss to the inside of Dean's right knee as his fingers slipped in between his crack. Anticipation pooled low in Dean's belly, and he could feel himself trembling. 

 

Despite the tension, Cas was gentle as he worked him open. It was slow and agonizing, a pleasant burn making Dean squirm in the bed. Cas straightened up and gripped Dean's hip with his free hand, pinning him down, and Dean moaned at the unsaid command. Precum beaded the tip of Dean's dick and slowly slid down. 

 

“You like it when I'm rough,” Cas murmured, a tantalizing grittiness to his voice, and Dean's mouth parted on a moan. 

 

Dean gasped, slowly coming undone as Cas twisted his fingers. It was  _ so close,  _ but not quite enough. Dean tried to rock down on the fingers, chasing the pleasure, but they disappeared. 

 

Cas reached down to line his dick up with Dean, and he slowly pressed forward. It was a slow burn, inch by inch, setting Dean alight with pleasure. Bottomed out, Cas hooked his hands around the back of Dean's knees and forced his legs apart.

 

“Fuck,” Dean keened, his head falling back at the new angle. “Please move, Cas.” 

 

Cas ignored him, and he let one leg go to reach down and pump Dean's dick slowly. Dean squirmed, goosebumps trailing all over his skin, and breathlessly begged Cas for friction. Finally,  _ thankfully, _ Cas rolled his hips backwards before rolling his hips to push back in. Dean whined at the drag, clenching up as he ached for more. 

 

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas asked gruffly, his hand holding one of Dean's legs up clenching every time Dean did.

 

“Fuck me, Cas,” Dean blurted out, releasing a groan as Cas slowly dragged back out before rolling back in. “Please, fuck me.  _ Hard. _ ”

 

Cas let out a hiss, and obliged Dean. He rocked faster, his hips snapping forward quicker. Dean arched up from the bed, his mouth hanging open. Cas abandoned Dean's right leg to reach out and press Dean back down to the bed. No longer holding Dean's legs up, they fell open wide, and Cas barely pulled all the way out before rocking back in. 

 

The burn was more intense, sharper, and Dean reached up to grab at Cas almost mindlessly. Cas grabbed his wrists, gripping them together in one hand, and held them down against Dean's chest, using the position to press Dean harder into the bed. 

 

Dean drew his legs back up, wantonly spreading them wide in the air in a V shape. Cas leaned forward, using his torso to press Dean's legs farther down, and he rocked his hips in a smooth motion. 

 

Dean was completely confined, assaulted by pleasure, and unsure what that said about him. He didn't have time do wonder why he was so into being manhandled because Cas met his eyes through the tangle of their limbs, and he rocked his hips faster. 

 

Cas squeezed his hand between them, and started massaging Dean's dick. It wasn't a tight grip, and Cas’ hand didn't maintain one speed. But  _ fuck,  _ it made sparks fly behind his eyelids as he shoved his head back and arched into Cas’ hold. 

 

Dean huffed shortly, whimpering helplessly, trying to stop from coming right then and there, but it was no use. One more brush of Cas’ hand while he rolled his hips forward, and Dean was spilling into his hand with a hoarse shout of surprise. 

 

Dean cursed up a storm, his words intertwined with moans as he came, and Cas seemed shocked by Dean's abrupt release. It must've pleased him because his jaw snapped shut as he found his own release, jerking back in enough time to paint Dean's ass. Cas rode his orgasm in silence, eyes screwed shut, hair standing up haphazardly.

 

They both panted into each other's skin, almost gasping for air as they leaned heavily on each other. Cas raised a shaky hand, pressing cool fingers into Dean's forehead. He felt himself cool down considerably, and all the sweat and mess disappeared. 

 

“Neat trick,” Dean said, his voice wrecked. 

 

“Don't get used to it,” Cas growled, and he would've seemed angry if it weren't for the way he cuddled close to Dean. 

 

“How long before...it's gone?” 

 

“I'd say about three more sessions of fornication should rid me of my grace entirely and leave me with a soul.” 

 

“And you're totally cool with it?” 

 

“More than cool.” 

 

“Don't roll your eyes,” Dean grumbled, reaching up to curl arms around Cas. “I just want to make sure you're good.” 

 

“I have never been better,” Cas promised, lifting his head to look at Dean softly. 

 

“Oh shut up, you sap,” Dean murmured, willing himself not to blush and failing miserably. “For someone who just manhandled me all over the bed, you sure know how to sweet talk.”

 

“For someone who just enjoyed my manhandling so much, you sure know how to act tough,” Cas shot back in challenge. 

 

“Shut up,” Dean muttered, clearing his throat loudly. He bit his lip in indecision for a few moments. “Okay, don't ever tell anyone, but I really liked that. So...yeah.  _ Anytime. _ ” 

 

“Our secret,” Cas promised, smiling softly. 

 

“Man, makeup sex  _ is  _ good,” Dean laughed, nudging Cas over to lay beside him. 

 

“Mhm,” Cas agreed softly. “I shall remember that next time you act like an ass.”

 

Dean burst out laughing, the earlier Cas-shaped hole in his chest long gone. Just having Cas lying beside him, being sarcastic and cute, was enough to bring Dean's heart to it's best beat. Sighing, Dean peered at Cas, feeling as if the sun lived in his lungs. 

 

“You know I'm in love with you, right?” Dean asked, staring at Cas curiously. 

 

“Never hurts to hear it,” Cas hummed, wrinkles forming beside his eyes as he smiled.

“I'm so very in love with you,” Dean whispered, snatching the covers up over them. He pressed a quick kiss to Cas’ forehead. 

 

“I love you too, Dean Winchester,” Cas replied softly, his words tickling Dean's neck as he curled in close. “Always have, always will.”

 

Spent and finally relaxed, they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms. Peace replaced the frustration that suffocated them before, and suddenly, it was much easier to breathe.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Sam entered the bunker warily. The kids decided to head to the TV room, and Sam took on the mission of finding Cas and Dean. He checked Dean's room first, and once he saw it empty, he grew worried. He stopped behind Cas’ door, listening for any arguing or fighting. Once he was met with silence, Sam eased the door open. 

 

Dean and Cas laid in each other's arms, cuddling close together peacefully. Sam blinked in surprise at their tangled hands, victory immediately gripping him. Closing the door softly, Sam grinned widely. 

 

_ ‘Fucking finally’ _ .

 

* * *

 

“Dean, can we talk?” 

 

_ ‘Uh oh’ _ , Dean thought, swallowing thickly. Sam chewed his bottom lip, averting his eyes from side to side. Heaving a sigh, Dean untangled his hand from Cas and stood up. Sam refused to meet his gaze, and Dean cast a look of worry towards Cas. 

 

“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean said, clearing his throat and following Sam out the room. 

 

“So...something’s come up,” Sam told him as he shut the bedroom door behind them. 

 

“What's wrong?” Dean asked, immediately on alert. “What happened?” 

 

“Relax, it's not... _ bad, _ ” Sam assured him quickly, moving to sit on his bed. 

 

“Okay, so what is it?” Dean pressed. 

 

“Eileen wants to...move into the bunker,” Sam murmured, looking up with wide eyes.

 

“Okay…” Dean said, drawing out the word and moving his hands in a ‘ _ carry on’  _ fashion. 

 

“That's it,” Sam muttered, clearing his throat and shifting awkwardly. “I know we kinda agreed to keep this place off the grid, but-” 

 

“Dude,” Dean laughed, rolling his eyes, “are you joking right now? Of course Eileen can move in! She's family, man.” 

 

“Wait... _ seriously? _ ” Sam blurted, sitting up in surprise. “You're okay with it?” 

 

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be? She makes you happy, and you want her here, so why the hell not? Besides, that'd be a bit hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?” 

 

“I just thought… I dunno what I thought. I forget sometimes how much we've changed.”

 

“I get it,” Dean snorted. “I'm having sex with a guy, and getting ready to open up an automotive shop for hunters out of my underground bunker. I have three  _ sort of _ kids who are all doing really well for themselves. Trust me, if you'd have told me when I showed up to your college this is where I would be, I would have laughed in your face.” 

 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed quietly, blinking in surprise. “How the hell did we end up here?”

 

“Dumb luck?” Dean offered. 

 

“Gonna have to agree with that.” 

 

“So when is she moving in?” 

 

“This weekend...if that's cool,” Sam said cautiously, raising his eyebrows carefully. 

 

“Yeah, sounds like a plan. Get the kids to help you move her in,” Dean told him, frowning as he scratched his head. “Jack should be finished with his homework by then. Getting him to school online was a smart idea. Also, Claire and Kaia are leaving next weekend for a hunt with Donna.” 

 

“Where are you going to be?” Sam asked curiously. “Taking Cas somewhere?” 

 

“Yeah,” Dean murmured vaguely, offering a little secret smile. “If everything goes according to plan, we'll end up in a beach house for the weekend.”

 

“Sounds fancy,” Sam teased. 

 

“Hey, the things we do for love,” Dean hummed, waving a hand. He arched an eyebrow at Sam and smirked. “Like brave our hotheaded brother and ask if our girlfriend can move in. Love makes you crazy, I guess.” 

 

“Oh,  _ shut up. _ ” 

 

Dean cackled, tossing his head back. The pillow that smacked him in the face was to be expected, really. 

 

* * *

 

“Why are you bringing me here?” 

 

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line, and shoved Baby into park. He didn't say a word, and he hopped out the car to wait. Cas eventually joined him, walking up to stand beside him with a curious tilt to his head. 

 

“Look,” Dean whispered, pulling Cas to a particular patch of grass he knew all too well. 

 

Cas tipped his head down, frowning at the flowers that grew unnaturally in the shape of wings. Dean swallowed as Cas slowly raised his gaze to stare at him. 

 

“Dean…” Cas murmured, mouth dipping down.

 

“This is where I lost my mind,” Dean stated softly, turning to Cas’ seriously. “Right here, I went insane. This is where I lost something I needed. This is where I realized I was too late to admit my feelings for you. This is where you left me, Cas.” 

 

“I don't understand,” Cas admitted. 

 

“I want you to be here, so I will always have the proof you're alive,” Dean croaked, eyes pricking with unshed years. “You're here now, and I never want to lose you again. I will always love you, Cas.  _ Always. _ ” 

 

“Oh, Dean,” Cas breathed, a stunned look passing over his face. “I love you.” 

 

Cas turned and swept him up in a hug, holding him close. In his arms, Dean felt himself start to heal. It was a mere step in the endless walk of healing, but he could feel the relief anyway. 

 

Dean remembered how he'd felt when he first returned to the pair of wings burned in the ground. Empty, hopeless, exhausted. He'd been reliving hell in his dreams, a link to the loss of the man who had saved him. And despite that, he stood with the very man he lost, healing in the weight of his love. He'd come so far, and he knew that he'd go through all of it again as long as he ended right back there, wrapped in the warmth of Cas’ embrace. 

 

Dean wasn't sure how his new life was going to pan out, and he wasn't sure where he'd end up,  _ but _ he was positive that he'd be fine as long as he had Cas. It was like flying, soaring towards new heights with no fear of falling. He had no idea what was going to happen, but for the first time in his life, he wasn't scared. 

 

Dean never felt safer than he did right then, with the promise of Cas’ forever in the grip of his arms. He finally felt free to dream, to want,  _ to live _ . Dean never knew how it felt to live like tomorrow didn't matter, not until he allowed himself to see a tomorrow worth living for.

 

“Cas,” Dean whispered, his words muffled into Cas’ neck. Cas pulled back slightly. 

 

“Yes, Dean?” Cas asked. 

 

“Be a Winchester,” Dean said.

 

“I don't think I can just become a Winchester, Dean,” Cas told him with a frown. 

 

“Yes, you can,” Dean breathed, blinking slowly as he pulled his own ring off his finger and offered it to Cas. “Be a Winchester, Cas.” 

 

Cas stared at the ring, his eyes slowly drifting to gaze at Dean. They stared at each other for a long time, mountains of emotions landsliding between them. Dean let out a slow breath when Cas reached up and grabbed the ring, settling it on his ring finger. 

 

“Yes,” Cas replied, his lips curling into a soft smile. “I'll be your Winchester, Dean, but only if you'll be mine.” 

 

Dean let out a soft laugh, elation making him grip Cas’ arms tight. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather be, and he stared down the pair of wings that started him on his journey to love. Glancing back up at Cas, he realized he was going to do what he always did.

 

He chose Cas. 

 

“Of course.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that was it! *sobs* I hope that everyone enjoyed, I hope it was compelling, and I hope that I lived up the DCBB Challenge as my first DCBB! Drop some comments and let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy the story! Don't hesitate to leave some kudos and drop some comments; I sure do appreciate them! Have fun ;)
> 
> -SOBS


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